Cathedrals of the Mind (A Christmas Challenge)
by The Wishbone
Summary: Happy holidays! It's winter on Earth. The Doctor teams up with old enemies and new friends to save a town from destruction. But will a stubborn zoologist and grumpy half Dalek help him in time? . Every day leading up to the twenty fifth, I'm going to try and write and publish a chapter of a story. It's a little ambitious, but it should be fun. Try it out yourself, and enjoy!
1. The 1st

"Do we have to have this on?" He asks through a mouthful of toast. "It's so depressing, I can't stand it."

"Well, I can and I like to. My house, my radio, my rules. If you don't like it, go back to bed."

News is important. That's what I tell myself. The dour voice of the reader murmurs through the eggs spitting in the pan, through the earthy smell of the coffee. There's something about global warming on the news again. Before then, the election. And then, how the government plans to deal with another alien attack. Then terrorism in the middle east. Then...

The tuneless drawl of Shane MacGowan. _A Fairy Tale Of New York_. Really?

"Lewis!"

My boyfriend is smiling like a pleased idiot.

"Merry Christmas darling! Let there be peace and goodwill on earth."

Trying to appear angry, I make a dive for the radio, but Lewis moves first. Before I know quite what's going on, he's taken me by the hand, and we are waltzing around the apartment. Lewis sings in a deep tenor, and I can't help but begin to laugh. The magnetons lift their metallic heads, and Rust dives out of the way of our swaying feet, making it to the couch just in time, his metal organs chiming within him like a bell.

"There's twenty-four days still." I remind him, out of breath, cheeks hurting pleasantly.

"Oh come on Eliza, I waited all of November for you! Now it's non-stop until January."

"Dear God!"

He's so much better now; glowing, alive. I remember how skinny and pale he was when I first met him. How long has it been? Nearly ten years since we met. Seven since we came together, on and off. We're no longer in our twenties; no longer young. And yet Lewis has grown; his red hair long and tousled, a beard beginning on his chin, his face a mass of freckles and his hazel eyes bright. Three years since he moved in.

I reach up, kiss him on the lips, and then break away.

"Did we run out of tomatoes?"

"Yeah. On Tuesday actually." He sits back down. "Shouldn't the ones on the roof be ready? D'you want me to check?"

Maggie chimes and waddles over to the table, struggling onto the empty seat expectantly. I shake my head.

"No, I'll go. I need to check how many layers I'll need anyhow."

As we live on the top floor it would have been easy enough to shimmy up the fire escape. But the burn of cold metal rungs is hardly the best sensation to feel on a Thursday morning. Instead, I step out from the roof exit, to where the Dalek used to live. The wind lashes my face, clouding my breath. Below, in the park and the gardens, the leaves will be frosted and cars will need to heat up before they can run.

But Sec's garden, by a miracle of technology, is as green and fresh as on a summer day.

I push past the olive tree, the crates of tulip like plants with fiery petals still in full bloom, the herbs planted in their rows. And the tomatoes, crawling up their bamboo canes, are as red and as plum as the middle of summer.

Sec. Our strange neighbour and friend lived here for almost a year. It was a short time but one I won't forget. We planted the garden. The broken water tower was utilised as a rudimentary home, with little more than a suspended mattress for a bed and enough floor space for his black casing. It's been demolished now; taken down for scrap. I miss him. We both do. Someone to whom I owe my life wouldn't have seemed like a good friend. Especially the kind who was a former genocidal space warrior, but, hey. So it goes.

I pick up the secateurs from the bench, and cut myself three tomatoes. They go well with the eggs.

"But we're needed, ma'am! With all due respect, my department is essential to the functioning of this sector!"

"The taxpayer has decided against that, Miss Birchwood. You'll have closed down by the end of January."

"But what about Alice? Isn't there a place for her here anymore? She doesn't retire for another ten years."

"My god Eliza, I'm offering you a _promotion_! You're overqualified for the archives and you should have moved up years ago!"

We are in my boss's office. She has kept it warm and out the window the wintry square of parkland stretches away far below. Certificates and medals sit in their frames across the wall, and the filing cabinet is overflowing again. My boss, General Kathy Vice of the New York branch of U.N.I.T, is telling me to move to Washington. I, in turn, am trying to tell her why I don't want to.

She pushes out of her high back chair, walks around the desk to stand on my side.

"Listen; we're hitting hard times. It's been years since the last significant alien attack, and now the White House's priorities are here on earth. People are beginning to wonder why we're needed anymore. You're lucky I've been able to find you a position elsewhere. The pay will be better, and the work will be more...suitable for a woman of your level of expertise."

"Expertise? I read books and write reports! I'm no expert on extra-terrestrials."

General Vice's face darkens.

"Eliza Birchwood. The Dalek Girl. That's who we hired. And that's who Washington want to hire now."

"Look, I never liked that name."

"Well you owe it. It's stopped you from becoming redundant. I'm sorry if you don't like it, but honestly, if you don't take this opportunity, then you're going to have to look elsewhere."

I sit back, and my breath comes out in one long, shaggy blow.

I've been working here ever since two-thousand and nine. Ever since the earth was stolen and the sky afire with stars. It was my first paid job since the force, since I dropped out of Columbia University after only a year. Ever since...

Vice rests her hand on her desk. It has a glass top, and is kept meticulously clean. I imagine she hates it. The mismatched books on her shelf, the photos of friends and decorations that clutter the rest of the space seem to show a woman of organised chaos. The photos show a person who was once well built, athletic, but years at a desk job and too much stress have made her stout. A mannish haircut, badly dyed brunette, seems to be the only physical remnant of her life in the field.

"Eliza, they tell me what you did during the invasion. They said you were a hero. You killed the rogue prisoner Dalek Sec. Their top strategist. Do you know how many more could have died that day?"

I don't say anything.

"I couldn't sack you. I would never. And I think you need to retain some of that honour. If not for yourself, for me."

My eyes are stinging.

I stand up, my chair scrapes loudly on the tiles.

"Well, thank you. It's a lot to take in; that's all. I really do appreciate what you've done." I mean it.

Vice smiles, and for a moment she almost looks motherly.

"Just give it a think then. If it is time for you to move on, well..."

We shake hands, and then I'm in the elevator, taking a long trip to the ground floor.

It's a little past one, but it's been so grey to day that it could be a lot later.

I head out onto the plaza, towards the fountain. I pass the large wooden box that had been placed as an art installation. The air is stinging, bitter, but I feel numb enough anyway. Everything is changing. I sit on the marble edge, watching the pigeons gather at my feet. An elderly man, dressed a little too fancily for the bad weather, is perched at the opposite end. Apart from him and I, the city is in motion. Christmas shoppers hurry past, a young man carrying coffee, some teens giggling in thick woolen scarves.

For seven years I've had this job, working quietly among the books and records, identifying different species from historical accounts, writing the catalogue. I took the occasional trip out of the city to look at specimens, document them. Venezuela and the tepui was one of the most amazing things I had ever done. Well, pretty close to second.

And back in New York I loved my workspace; the rows and rows of shelves and drawers. The smell of books. I loved the banter with Alice my assistant, big boned and chatty Australian. Hearing about her twins was almost on a par with any alien battle saga.

All gone.

We'll have to move. Would Lewis want to leave New York? Do _I_ want to leave? The guys in Washington are closer to the army, and honestly, that would leave a bad taste in my mouth. Vice was very clear about one thing; they were interested in the catalogue. Especially the part about weaponry.

I rest my head in my icy palms. I'm lucky. I know I am. But the idea of changes slices through me, makes me shaky.

"Dalek Girl? That's quite a title, takes a lot of bravery to earn one like that. I'd like to hear about it."

"What?"

I look up. The elderly man has walked over. He has a chalky complexion, his wild grey hair is pulled by the wind. His eyes sit under furrowed eyebrows, and hold a steely intensity.

How does he know what they call me? Perhaps he read it in a paper or journal.

I groan internally. This isn't the first time this has happened. People have sometimes claimed to recognise me in bars and cafes, and right now dealing with a fan is the last thing I need.

The gentleman sits down next to me, thankfully not too close. His accent is British, thickly scottish when he speaks.

"They say you fought well during the invasion."

"Do they?" I try to smile. It comes out weak. "I wouldn't have said fought. I just..."

I remember Sec then. His dark, heavy form, like a metal shadow. Reassuring. Bizarre.

The man smiles, a little tightly, and looks forward as if reminiscing. His jumper under a velvet jacket is full of holes.

"I knew Dalek Sec." He says.

I don't expect to hear that name. It throws me.

"You did? How?"

"Trust me; when you've been around as long as I have, you tend to meet a lot of people."

His words are deep, solemn. I raise an eyebrow.

Barely anybody new Sec. To the other Daleks, he was little more that a myth. Here; an urban myth.

"What happened?"

The old man smiles a bloodless smile.

"I battled him, naturally." He says. "Both during the time war, and on Doomsday. I helped him, too. Gracious, that was a long time ago; they all were."

He speaks like a veteran, but one of centuries. For a moment, just a moment, I begin to believe him.

"He was one of the worst of all of them, Dalek Sec. He was a merciless commander and a fierce leader. He was willing to break their taboos and protocol, and trust me, if a creature as single minded as a Dalek can break a rule and live; that's quite something. He died in 1930. Not too far from this spot."

I've heard all this before. The first time, it was from Sec himself, and the change, the deja vu, is as astounding as it is sickening.

"They thought he died." The man goes on. "But then, apparently you killed him during the invasion a few years back. You shot him through the eye stalk with a .39 when he attacked a lab in Midtown West. You saved all of them."

He speaks praise, but as he turns to look at me his eyes are stormy.

"He was a murderer." I reason. My mouth is dry. "If you did do all those things, you'd know that he murdered and mutilated hundreds of humans. They all are. What else could I have done?"

My words sound rehearsed, and my accuser must know it.

"You could have let him go. Because he was very close to becoming a decent creature."

The way he words this is very _very_ close to being an observation, not an opinion. I stare at him long and hard.

"Who the hell do you think you are?"

The old man shrugs. Stands up as if he has pins and needles.

"Come with me and I'll show you."

I stay sitting, and watch as he crosses the plaza, heading for the blue wooden box. They must have installed it during the morning. I can't remember seeing it when I arrived at nine. He opens its double door and nods towards it.

He must be mad. How stupid does he think I am.

Perhaps it's my anger that makes me follow him over.

"You old creep. There's barely enough room for the two of us."

"If you say so. But I thought it was a bit nippy, that's all."

He disappears into the blue box. I look inside.

I quickly realise that I'm wrong.

There is enough room for two people inside the box. If not fifty. A hundred. An army.

It must be out of amazement that I stumble inside, gazing at the glowing core at the centre.

And when the doors close behind me, and I try and wrench them loose I realise what a proud fool I've been; stolen away like a gullible child.

The floor tips. Everything goes sideways.

And the man who calls himself the Doctor yells:

"For God's sakes; stop screaming and hold onto the rail!"

There's nothing more I can do than obey.


	2. The 2nd

"That should be enough. It'll be gettin' cold pretty soon."

"I know. It is already cold enough."

"Sure you don't want a hand?"

"We'll see."

The store clerk who has just sold me the fuel smiles. I still cannot say that I know much about smiles, but this one seems genuine, almost friendly. I have visited enough times to have at least earned his respect as a consumer.

A little bell jingles as I leave the store, and at once the still, frosty air attacks. I wish I had pulled up my scarf a little.

She's been waiting.

The girl is perched on the store sign. She was playing with her phone, but as soon as I leave it vanishes into the pocket of her green military style coat. She crosses the parking lot uninvited.

"Hi Sec!"

"Good morning." I answer gruffly.

"Cold isn't it?"

"I had noticed, yes."

"D'you need a hand?"

At first I mean to answer in the negative, but my knucles are hurting beneath my gloves. I'm too old for heavy lifting, and I know my back will complain later.

"Thank you Reece."

The teenager takes the weight of the canister, and I have to admit that I'm relieved to be rid of it.

She walks alongside me to the truck.

"I like your scarf." Reece informs me in a strained voice. Reminded, I pull the edge of it over the lower part of my face.

"It is old. I could do with a new one."

"Something for Christmas then?"

"No."

"Oh."

We reach my truck and I undo the gate on the back, letting Reece slide the can onto the back.

"Nice truck."

"I got it from your father."

I climb on, tethering the canister into place alongside the eight others.

"I appreciate that. Thank you."

"Oh; it's fine. Sec?"

I feel myself bristle.

"What?"

The girl smiles. She has a round face and dark skin, framed by a pair of fashionably large glasses. She is small for her age, and the kind of person that would have been described as plain a long time ago.

"Well, I asked last time, and you didn't really give me an answer, but, as I helped you and all...could you show me some alien stuff?"

Her eyes widen expectantly. She's been waiting to ask, I can tell.

"No."

"Awww, but it'll be so cool! I want to see your space ship and things!"

"I don't have a spaceship."

"But you're an alien!"

"I'm a _half_ alien."

"Well, then what's that black metal-can thing I've seen you drive around in?"

"It's a Mach three travel casing to you, and I only use that because of my arthritis. Don't you have school?"

"School sucks. We never learn anything important."

I'm beginning to wish that I _had_ brought my casing after all. The gun is still working well.

There is the screeching of tires. As if on cue, the school bus has parked on the road, a patch of yellow against the greying sky and desert. I point to it.

"Your carriage awaits. Go."

The bus is like an omen. Reece goes under a transformation. Her smile falls. She seems to blanch. The optimism drains away from her eyes.

"It's a waste of time." She protests hollowly. "You're lucky you don't have to go."

"An education is one of the most important things anyone can have." I say, a little warmly. "That and basic combat skills."

"Huh. Funny. Well, I'll see you round, I guess."

She saunters over to the bus, looking incredibly small on the empty asphalt. She climbs onboard, and I lose her among the boisterous mass of the other students. The bus pulls away with a breathy clunk, and I watch as it becomes smaller and smaller on the endless road.

Shaking my head, I climb into the truck, turn on the ignition, and pull away myself.

Should I have picked up more anti-freeze? Will I have to tie chains to the tires? It shouldn't be that cold. I will manage somehow. Surviving is just something I'm good at.

The desert slides past, rimmed by the mountains in the not so far distance. The sandy reds and blazing yellows of the summer have been washed out, and a new kind of danger fills this wilderness. The heat is incredible, and draining. Sun or snow though, the silence is endless. The cold is a bitch. My hands, my back are attacked by it, and in winter movement is painful. I have spent whole seasons shut away in my casing and living the old life of a war torn Dalek, but one that involves reading more books and drinking more whiskey. The wilderness is perfect for someone like me. If you live this far out, you may as well not exist.

Ten kilometres up the road I turn off onto the stone path. The vehicle shakes as her tires find the well-worn grooves (great, now I'm gendering bloody _vehicles_ ; I really must be a human).

We head up into the jagged rocks, and soon we are rumbling off road. I'm glad that I fixed the suspension before the bad weather set in. This area is known by the locals as "The Devil's Crown", or words and meanings equivalent to it. It is fitting; some of the stones are almost twelve metres in height, like teeth. After ten minutes navigating a winding, labyrinthine route, I turn the last corner and see a familiar sight roll into view.

The ancient oil tanker lies with its front half buried in the ground, like a robotic dragon who fell face-first into sand. The scarlet paint on its bonnet has all but weathered away. The cylindrical drum stretches on a slant up the slope behind it. The word _Esso,_ antiquated type is just visible. is just visible. A wooden door has been fitted inexpertly into its side, and its back is studded with corrugated plastic windows. My laboratory, a red shipping container sits just behind it, partially sunk into the hill. This is my home; the mutant's lair, the demon's hideout.

I kill the engine, slide out into the cold.

Yes; the silence is incredible here, crushing. The rustling of my clothes as I turn my head are loud in comparison. I won't unload right now; I'll make a hot drink first and have half an hours break.

Heading up the breeze-block step, I brush the dusty stalks of the lavender that I planted.

I wonder if Eliza kept the garden?

Is she still with Lewis?

I shudder, and push into the warmth of my house. It's good to be back.

Well, it would have been.

"HE'S HERE! Jock, go grab Mama; tell her we got him!"

The surprize house guests greet me with the barrel of a machine gun. _My_ machine gun.

Next thing I know I'm being forced against my own wall. I snarl.

"The Prittchards?! How dare you break into the abode of Dalek Sec! I'll kill you!"

"Oh, we didn't break in, you left the door unlocked!" The light haired young man who holds the gun tells me. "We didn't damage nothing."

"Quiet you idiot!" Cries another. He and his toothless brother are gathered around my casing, hefting a length of chain to secure it. "We was gonna tell him we kicked it in; we wanna look tough."

Fighting for breath, I close my eye. Concentrate. My casing lurches, eyestalk rolling, and pulls over the two brothers. They howl angrily, and I almost giggle.

"THAT IS ENOUGH." A flat, steel voice announces. Something ice cold presses against my bare brain. The silhouette of the Cyberman fills the doorway. I swallow, fighting my embarrassment.

"Mama Prittchard." I acknowledge. "How very good to see you. Seasons greetings."

"DEVIL. WHAT EVIL HAVE YOU SET ON US NOW? EXPLAIN, OR I WILL TAKE PLEASURE FROM BLASTING YOUR HEAD OFF."

On of the brothers laughs stupidly.

"A southern belle such as yourself? Really, it's unbecoming."

"AND SO WILL YOUR BRAINS ON MY SON'S CLOTHES. NOW START TALKING. WHY IS THERE A MONSTER HEADING TOWARDS TOWN?"

I gulp. Her blank round eyes seem to bore into me.

"There's a what?"


	3. The 3rd

The Cyberman, Cyber _woman_ more appropriately doesn't move. Off the side of her fist is a small but powerful laser gun. I've seen the likes before; little more than an irritation to a Dalek in full armour. Death to flesh and blood, especially the kind without enough skull.

Mama Prittchard ("WITH TWO T'S, THANK YOU) was at the county market on the day that the Cybermen attacked. She had been arguing with a buyer who was under-pricing her cow before she was dragged away to be converted. Her high temper at the time was possibly what saved her. The open void from whence they came, the same one that slaughtered my millions of Daleks, a bloodbath, a merciless cull, drew the Cybermen and my Daleks away like drawing a terrible breath. But Mrs Prittchard, annoyed now by both her mutilated body _and_ her life stock, became trapped behind the water tower.

Back on her ranch, the police had told her husband and five sons that the wife and mother was dead. The Prittchards, weeping in the drawing room around her portrait and wreath, were very surprised when the metal abomination crashed in through the back door, stormed into her own funeral, and demanded that they took of their fancy clothes at once and attend to the pigs.

Right now, she has broken into my home and slandering my already tarnished name.

"DON'T LIE TO ME! WE KNOW THE EVILS OF YOUR KIND; MURDERING BABIES, USING HUMANS AS LAB RATS. OF COURSE YOU'D LOOSE SOME HORROR ON INNOCENT PEOPLE."

Two of the Prittchards jump, wailing as my casing raises its gun and fires into the air. It was only meant to scare them, but leaves a smoking hole in my roof.

"Come on Prittchard, look what you made me do! I swear I have no idea what you are talking about, and I swear butcher the lot of you if you do not leave _right now!_ "

"I think he's telling the truth Mama." One of the sons murmurs. He's the youngest, the one with the toothpick in his mouth and the dark stubble on his chin. The Cyberwoman hesitates, and then removes her fist from my head. The gun is lowered, and I straighten up with as much dignity as I can muster.

"VERY WELL. BUT I AM NOT CONVINCED."

"Never mind that." My head is racing. "What does this monster look like?"

"Oh, it's awful!" Protested the son named Saul. He stands by my rudimentary sink, and keeps fiddling with his hair. A wad of gum occupies his jaw as he speaks. "It crossed our cattle pen, and our last good milk cow died there on the spot, just 'cos she didn't run away in time!"

"And you said it is heading towards the town? I just came from there. The school run is just ending."

If it is possible for a humanoid made entirely of metal to look even more solemn, Mama Prittchard achieves it.

"IT IS TRUE. AND WE WANT COMPENSATION."

"None of you thought to go after it?"

The Prittchards look at one another. Feet shuffle awkwardly.

"Well look here Mister Sec, Sir. We ain't monster killers."

"Well, I am. There's no time; we have to track it down right away. It will kill more than cattle."

I cross the room, and my casing bursts open to receive me.

"Grab as many guns as you can; we'll need them all. I imagine you have weapons of your own?"

"We got plenty." Says Walter Prittchard, who stands indistinguishable next to his rusty haired brother. "But we ain't goin' after no alien."

"YES WE ARE."

The casing closes around me, and after a moment of dark, my machine vision switches on.

"THE ONE-EYED DEVIL IS RIGHT. WE'VE GOT WEAPONS BOYS, AND WE'VE HUNTED DOWN MORE THAN COYOTES IN OUR TIME. WE ARE GOING AFTER IT."

He word is law. With murmurs and cries, the Prittchards wrench open the crate under my table, and pull out Dalek-tech submachine guns, my shot gun, in a cacophony of rattles and clicks.

"How fast can you drive?" I ask, and my mechanised voice barks viciously.

"Break neck; Walter and I broke the speed record in last season's Rock 'n Rumble rally."

"Good. I will fly behind."

"I DON'T LIKE IT, BUT YOU SEEM TO KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING." Mama admits. "BOYS, YOU OBEY THE DALEK AFTER YOU OBEY ME."

Their two flame-patterned trucks are parked at hap-hazard behind the tanker, in such a way that I could not see them. Mama and the two eldest pile into one, whilst the twins and Junior climb whooping into the other. They seem to enjoy the prospect of a fight, but I am worried. Whatever we are dealing with, I don't want a group of red-necks and an inferior Cybus Tech contraption to get ahead themselves. Enough people have died because of me. They squeal off in a screeching cloud of dust. I rise into the air, ready to follow. The teeth of the Devil's Crown fall away; become small.

I switch to my highest speed, enjoying the prospect of the flight.

Then the desert is gliding away below me as I follow the clouds of exhaust fumes that mark my unlikely allies.

The town of Martin is barely that. It is little more than a cross where two different roads meet and continue for hundreds miles on their separate ways. In the west are the foothills and pine forest. To the east, the plain. It has a high school, and subsequently a large residential zone. The Pritchard's take the road that leads to the ranch, but turn off towards the foothills. They come to a halt at the meadow behind the church, and I descend quickly to see why. Mama has stepped out, hands on hips. She is a bizarre figure; her steel limbs clash with the pink cotton apron that has been tied around her middle. This expression of maternalism only serves to make her look more formidable. It is pulled by the wind as I make my landing. The boys haven't left their vehicles, but lean out of the windows, trying to gain a good view point.

"THERE. COMING OUT OF THE TREES."

The blue sepia forest sits silently under the mountain. The shadows beneath them are deep, accentuated by the overcast sky. At first, I cannot see anything. I focus my lens, zoom in.

Could it be a trick of the light? From between the trees, the darkness appears to be extending: a tendril of shade crawling outwards.

"ANY IDEA WHAT IT COULD BE?" Mama demands.

I focus in closer.

No; not an extension of the shadows. A living thing; crawling, swaying. It is long; like an enormous insect or snake. It is completely black in colour, and appears to be made out of tar. From the distance, I can tell that it is longer than both the Prittchard's trucks end to end.

"I don't like it." Remarks Mama's eldest; the blonde man named August. "I don't like the way it moves. It's like a dead man walkin'."

"You been watchin' too many zombie films."

"But we've seen what this thing can do!"

August is right; there is something peculiar about the way it moves. It appears to stumble, step by step, drunkenly, but still makes quick progress towards the town. And watching it, I am suddenly filled with a stinging flood of dread.

"Keep the engines running. We have to try and intercept it."

A blue ring of energy spreads from below me as I elevate above the ground again. No, I have never seen anything like this before. And the last thing I want to do is get in its path.

But I come to hover before it, and as the two trucks slide with a burning rubber smell, it comes to a halt. They have blocked it.

"LOAD UP, BOYS. IT'S IMPOSSIBLE TO MISS."

"No!" I cut in. "Don't shoot yet. Perhaps we can talk to it."

From out of the roof hatch, Jock sniggers weakly.

"What are you, some kind of hippie?" But his cockiness melts away. We are all nervous.

Large heaps of the gelatinous black sludge sink from the body of the monster. Its head is pointed like that of a leach, but I suspect that it is partially liquid; it can change its form.

"Turn around. You are not welcome here!" I shout at it. "Either say you mean no harm, or leave."

A safety trigger clicks. The monster shows no sign of understanding.

A sensation, like rising bile, fills the throat of my body inside the armour. What can it be about this creature that makes it feel so _wrong_?

Walter Prittchard retches. On my left, Saul cries out.

"Oh God! Look at its legs."

I see what he means at once.

They hold up the creature, too skinny surely to hold the moving, unstable mass. But its limbs are solid, and in irregular rows. They are the legs of people, bare, and as charred in colour as the rest of its body. The flesh peels. The legs of dead things. But that isn't all; arms too, with curled angled fingers, reach to the ground. Dead, rotten, devoured.

And as if sensing our fear the creature transforms, becomes a torrent, and leaps into the air like rushing black water. The boys cry out. A cold wind rushes from it. The blackness covers the sky and the crash of deafening, terrified gunfire fills the air, shuddering through the walls of my casing. I recoil, expect the end and brace myself. But then it is gone.

We turn to see a river of black liquid thundering towards the town.

Only Mama seems to have held her nerve.

"GET AFTER IT!"

I am shaken out of my fear, and begin the pursuit.

"Right! Try and cut it off in the town. You have to at least warn everyone. Use the submachine lasers; bullets will not help!"

"Hell right there!" Toothless Saul yells up at me. "How do we know that things even killable? I don't even think it's alive!"

"We have to try."

I keep above the monster. It is too fast to overtake. I open fire and shards of light strike and fork through its liquid hide. A scream, deeper and more horrible than any abomination from the time war fills the air. So it is alive. But it shows no sign of slowing.

The first site of the town is the churchyard. A dusty, tilted collection of crosses, chipped tombstones stand ever watchful ahead of the back of the church. The monster swamps right through it; wrenching up white slabs and the flowers in its wake. I expect it to crash into the church, but instead it parts, like a single celled organism and flows around, joining at the other side.

It is beginning to tire, to lumber and thicken once more as it slides into the street. There is a commotion, confused cries and then screams as the street begins to empty. I continue to fire. The metal around me is hot from the effort. The monster writhes, but continues forward, gaining a leech-like point as if reaching, searching…

As the streets empty, the two familiar vehicles roar into view from the main street.

"HOW IS IT GOING? YOU STILL NEED A HAND, TIN CAN?"

My voice reverberated off the empty street.

"It's slowing! If we all fire together we can take it down!"

There is the slamming of doors as the Prittchard boys leap from their vehicles. A mixture of fear and the thrill of survivor's instinct must possess them as the twins whoop and charge forward.

"CAREFUL! DO YOU IDIOTS WANT TO GET YOURSELVES KILLED?!"

Jock Prittchard is in the lead. His stocky arms hold the submachine gun inexpertly. He raises the caged barrel, opens fire. The monster shrieks and reels. This encourages the others, and Walter, then Junior, and then blonde, balding August dive into position, as if in competition with one another as to who can get the best shot.

Too close, the monster is still surging forward, if sluggishly. Saul takes another step forward.

"Saul, watch out!"

The liquid smashes into him, and his yells are lost as it surges around his head, envelopes him.

I make a dive. It may be too late. But I'm not a creature of flesh and blood right now; I am one of metal. If he has a chance…

I sink into the black. A horrible, suffocating swamp. Heat sensors tell me that I am surrounded by something hot, something living. I cannot see the brother.

And then, the strangest thing happens.

Sobbing. It is soft, far away, but distinguishable. Shaking, pained. The voice of a woman.

In the lurid trip of the heat sensor, a patch of cool arises. The shape of a man.

I surge forward, the body thumps against my fenders.

And then an explosion of light as I burst out into the fresh air.

Saul drops and rolls a few times. He's moving; getting up.

And the monster screams louder than before; a cry of fitful rage and exhaustion.

The Prittchards stumble back as it collapses, and falls heavily onto the asphalt.

Downed.

People are staring; they re-appear from street corners, from the shabby storefronts.

The brothers are gathering around Saul, crying out.

"Saul! Are you dead? Did it kill you?"

"MOVE BOYS. GIVE HIM ROOM, DEAD MEN DON'T MOVE."

Saul is rising shakily to his knees. He spits out a mass of black gunk and coughs wetly. Wipes his mouth.

"Jeez you bastards that was terrible! Why didn't you pull me out sooner?"

I dislike the attention. I glide over to the enormous body that lies in the centre of the road. It appears to be getting smaller. Like a melting ice cube.

"Er, miss? Miss, are you okay?"

Someone was hurt? I turn my attention back to the street.

At the street corner, where she wasn't before, stands a familiar figure. She is shaking, her green coat half on, her face pale under her straight dark bangs.

I push through the brothers, an assortment of faded anoraks, two hoodies and a parka, to where Reece had stumbled to her hands and knees.

"I KNOW HER, SHE'S THE DARCEY GIRL. SHE ASKS TOO MANY QUESTIONS."

"Is she okay?"

"What are you doing out here Reece; you could have been killed! I meant it when I said to stay in school!"

She is shaking her head, gasps out once. A woman in a black felt coat who has been watching offers her some water, throwing me a dirty look.

"I was in school Mister Sec; honest. I just, I got scared and then…"

She stares past me at where the monster was.

I don't have time for girlish nonsense. Leaving her with the woman, I approach the dyed black trail that marks the monster's path. An oval smudge marks where it lay, and in the centre of that, an ink black puddle. This is all that is left.

The familiar clunk and hiss of a Cyberman's steps approach me, and Mama stops by my side.

"IS THAT ALL THAT'S LEFT? WE WERE FIGHTING A PUDDLE ALL THIS TIME?"

"It would seem so. She's not attacking anymore, that's what's important."

"SHE?"

Mama's head turns, apparently surprised.

"I thought I heard…never mind. How is your son?"

"HE WILL LIVE. SHE DRAINED THE LIFE FROM OUR ANIMALS, BUT HE IS AS RIGHT AS RAIN. I CANNOT UNDERSTAND IT. AND WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?"

I reach out with my plunger, probe experimentally. The liquid quivers, semi solid like a jelly.

"I will take this back to my lab. I do not like how the authorities deal with these cases."

"GOOD. WELL, WE ARE LEAVING. I HAVE NO DESIRE TO HAVE A MEETING WITH THE SHERIFF OVER THIS."

"Very well."

She begins to walk away.

"YOU DID A GOOD THING TODAY, DEVIL."

Her sons are hurrying back into the cars, glowing with the cold and with pride. As soon as she joins them, the engines growl into life, and they speed away, out of Martin and out of sight. Aware of the gathering crowd, I crack open my casing and step out, aching and shuddering. I will transport the remnants of the monster in my casing, and hire a ride home. It should hold.

Parts of a human. Voice of a woman. _Have_ I come across this before? Time will tell.

Trying as hard as I can to forget the dread, I scoop the mass into the Dalek shell, and then push past the crowd to the depot.


	4. The 4th

"Alright freak, where the fuck am I?" My voice shakes.

After what seemed like an eternity, the floor of the terrible room became still, and the whistling, unearthly throng of the engine comes to a shuddering halt with a boom.

"You are in the TARDIS." My abductors voice echoes cheerily. "It is a space ship. Also travels through time. Doesn't like cynics. Has an awful tendency of getting of getting lost. Is bigger on the in-"

"Yes, I can _see_ that!" I bawl. "More importantly, why have you brought me here Doctor...Doctor Faustus or whatever you said. I don't appreciate being kidnapped."

The Doctor is busying himself around the central pillar of the room. It is poorly lit, but I can tell that it's circular. The odd smell of engines, mingled with old books fills the air. By the amount of metal; the decking, the ribbed supports, he cannot be lying when he says that it is a space ship.

"You weren't kidnapped." He reasons mildly. "You came in here under your own free will."

"I was tricked! You lured me in here!"

I lift myself to my feet. My legs are jelly. I cling to the railing and try, shakily, to make my way towards the centre.

"Well, curiosity affects the best of us."

I approach the hexagonal control panel, where switches of odd shapes and unknown function glow temptingly. It is more like a Christmas tree than what I imagined any control panel would look like.

"Anyway; to answer your second question, I brought you here because you are the person most likely to know what I'm talking about."

"No; I'm really not." I say sourly. "Try Sing Sing. They'll know to a 't'."

He glances up. His face is lit dramatically by the central pillar of the ship.

"I don't appreciate that attitude. And don't joke either, because odds are I won't get it."

"Because you're an alien." I state. He raises his enormous eyebrows impressed.

"See? You _are_ sharp. You're exactly who I need, most people go into denial."

"I think someone would have to be terminally stupid as well as blind to think otherwise."

"Rude."

At that moment I become even more rude. I leap forward, grab the old man by the arms and force his head against the control panel. Who says the NYPD didn't teach me anything?

"Let. Me. Go. Right now."

"Bit difficult," the Doctor answers, cheek squished against a throw switch, "when I'm in a full nelson. And I'm not a fan of having anyone this close in a good scenario."

"Good. I don't care. I don't want to help you, and I don't know anything about Sec."

" _Dalek_ Sec. You're on first name terms, so you must."

"It's his _second_ name."

"I'm beginning to see why they called you Dalek Girl. You're not very nice."

"Yeah; and I can't help you. I was Sec's bodyguard; not his lab assistant. I'm no scientist, and if it wasn't for that business I'd never have sent him away!"

The Doctor pauses, and stops struggling.

"So he _is_ alive!"

Damn it.

My grip loosens. I stumble backwards, annoyed by my own stupidity.

The Doctor straightens up, rubbing his wrists and muttering under his breath. He has a square mark on his cheek.

"Well thank you very much." He says darkly. "That's all I needed. I'm done with you. You know where the door is."

"I thought you already knew." I say weakly. "You made it sound like...I'm sure you're good at poker."

"Not really. Gambling's not really my thing."

I don't look back. The decking rattles as I stumble towards the white antiquated doors.

"You won't find him." I call back. "Even I don't know where he is. I'd wish you well, but..."

The Doctor watches me with solemn silence, narrows his eyes.

I pull open the doors, noticing how much colder it's become. And darker. Winter days are short. It _must_ snow soon with this weather.

I look up, expecting to see the moon, and see the Earth instead.

It is about the size of a marble. A brilliant blue, dashed with white. Yellowed green.

The moon is under my feet. It makes up the straight grey line of the horizon. I look down, experimentally kick the dust at my feet. It rises as falls slowly, too slowly, as if through water. Like a snow globe.

"If you're wondering how you are able to breathe, it's because I extended the oxygen field." The Doctor stands in the doorway next to me. "I'm afraid you can't go any further than five metres from here."

I nod carefully. The black sky is endless, the unfamiliar ground too bright to see stars.

"Listen, Dalek Girl or not, I do need your help. You must know something. I promise you won't come to any harm under me."

I laugh flatly.

"No harm? I'm on the _moon_ for pete's sakes. I should already be dead. Besides, in twenty-five per cent of the cases I've read I've come across your name."

"But you didn't recognise the TARDIS."

"I guess the penny dropped too late. I was kind of having a bad day."

I am almost compelled to walk out; to test the surreality of my environment. Perhaps out of spite, if not to test once and for all whether the moon landing really _did_ happen.

I sink into a sitting position. Lean on the blue wooden doorframe.

"It's not my first trip into space y'know. We ended up on Skaro. Me and the hybrid. God that was a long time ago."

"Skaro? Well done on being alive." The Doctor genuinely sounds impressed.

"Thanks. We did; only just. I couldn't have made it without him."

"I don't doubt it."

My chest aches. It's been years, but to this day I feel it; the twinge of where my body was ripped open by a bullet. I rub my face with a hand, look up.

"I've heard stories about what happens with those who travel with you. Time lord's a nice title, but it couldn't save a lot of them. And I don't..."

"Species. Not title." He interjects. I shrug.

"Why do you want to find Sec? How can he possibly help you? If it's for the science then I bet there are an _infinite_ number of experts you could look up instead. But if you want revenge for anything, I'm not going to let you. I could make your life very hard indeed."

"Yes, you've made that quite clear." The Doctor rubs his neck. "Dalek Girl-"

"It's Eliza."

"Ugh. Names. Well, Eliza then. I did something wrong, and part of my crawling over to find him will hopefully be a way of atonement. If not, a load of people are going to get hurt and if I don't do the right thing, worse."

Atonement?

"Why? What do you mean."

The old man sighs and slips back into the TARDIS. As mesmerizing as the lunar landscape is, the cold is getting to me. I touch the doorpost as I walk back inside.

"I found something in space. I didn't know what it was; and like any curious person I decided to take a look."

"Sounds nasty. Well I told you about Sec. You need me why?"

"Well, you're a member of U.N.I.T, aren't you?" He starts walking backwards, flashes me a bright but lupine smile. "They like you from what I heard. I need _someone_ to wave their arms around while I break in through the window!"

"'Scuse me? I'm a distraction? Oh, nice. Well done Machiavelli."

The Doctor clicks his fingers, the sound reverberates. I jump as the doors behind me slam shut.

"Don't knock Machiavelli; he was a nicer bloke than people think. Kept himself to himself, y'know."

Something is rising within me. Tingling on the edge of my tongue, in the centre of my mind. Something I haven't felt in way too long. I try to fight it.

"I have a boyfriend you know. And four Skarovian attack crocodiles. They'll probably all be wondering where I am."

The ground judders and I yelp, grab onto the nearest item. It is the leg of a professor's chalkboard and begins to slide, taking me with it. I have no idea what he would need it for.

The rising, whistling sound of the engine has begun again. It is almost an animal sound. Of something living.

"Oh; where we're going you needn't worry about that. Give them a call. Make something up."

"I'm going to tell them the truth, thank you very much!" I holler, letting go of the chalk board and collapsing onto the perimeter rail. "They all need to know what a bad person you are!"

The old man leaps and bounds with a little too much energy, lurches for a switch here, turns a dial there.

"Not long now!" He cries, and I remember suddenly if that Cards Against Humanity answer I once got is talking about him. Then sure enough the TARDIS booms, comes for a stop.

The Doctor rushes past me, wrenches open the doors.

"Chillier than I thought." He muses. "For a desert."

I join him, and see an endless sky, this time littered with stars. Veins of the purple galaxy stretch before me, over a black horizon at least as bleak as the moon.

"What planet is this? I can tick of two now."

"It's yours. Earth. Same country even. We're in New Mexico."

"Oh."

"I recommend you wrap up." He says paternally. "You can check out the wardrobe if you want. Compensation if you like."

"Why are we here?"

"We're hunting for an alien. Don't know what it will look like. Your ugly Dalek friend will be next, but first we need to deal with this."

I look out once more into the void of the desert. I'm still angry, of course.

And terribly afraid.

Yet that tingling sensation on my tongue; I recognise it for what it is.

Adventure.

The prospect of seeing something new, and seeing my friend again swells bigger than the other emotions.

I follow the Doctor for something to wear.


	5. The 5th

"I don't understand it. She's such a well-behaved girl. Why would she run off like that?" Principal Lema asks. He's not supposed to smoke in school , but leans out the window. The numbing scent of air freshener during the day confirms the suspicion of his students. "Have there been any reports of bullying?"

"No reports." His colleague Dominic Bell pulls his own marlboro from the packet. His lighter has a picture of Che Guevara on its side.

It has just gone five. The sun is beginning to set, and the concrete yard below the office is coloured vibrantly with golden winter sunset. The clouds of earlier cleared for the first time in a month.

"I suspect that Reece has been targeted before though. She doesn't want to tell. None of them do. Her friend Sophie's been attacked in the bathroom a few times."

"Were those responsible punished?"

"Of course. But it doesn't change anything. They just plot their revenge. It's an ugly business."

Their smoke mingles in the night air before vanishing in cryptic curls of vapour.

"I just wish..." Bell pauses. The Principal waits for the answer. He is nearly twenty years into his career and knows that Dominic can only mean so many things. That kids weren't so cruel? That the outcasts would change to become less loathsome? But Bell shakes his head. Changes the subject.

"It's bad to say it, but there's something I just don't like about that Reece Darcey."

Lema chortles.

"Is that why you gave her a detention? You couldn't wait for an excuse."

"Oh...shut up." Bell waves his cigarette, grimacing. "Of course not. She's smart enough. She does reasonably well academically. Gets on well with her friends. Pretty quiet."

"Like most geeky kids then?"

"Well, yes and no. There's something...more. It's almost a kind of... cockiness. I'm not sure how to describe it. When she walked in this morning, one of the boys at the front threw a paper ball at her. Little shits, the lot of them. She flinched, and then hurried to her seat, but then I saw the look on her face. She was kind of...smirking. It's like she knew something we didn't. Kind of superior."

"Ah. So kind of holier-than-thou?"

Bell nods, considering.

"Something like that."

Lema rubs the back of his neck. He has a buffalo hump and thinning hair, grey against his black skin. He has a small beard that almost reminds Bell of Colonel Sanders. It suits him, and makes him appear wise. The creases in the teacher's face are like battle scars; a long career of grimacing and laughing in turn, with perhaps a little too many late nights. His face creases now, into a knowing smile.

"D'you know what I've come to call it? The Nerd Revenge complex. These kids are in every darn generation. They get bullied. They become ostracized. And so to feel better about themselves they come to see themselves as superior to the others in intelligence or morality. But you know the sad thing? They grow up, and spend the rest of their lives hating the mean kids. And the mean kids in turn forget about them; have good jobs, get married, have kids. Some of these smart kids, I guess they need to get over themselves one day."

"Yeah. I can see what you mean. But I don't know. It's not the first time this Darcey girl's disappeared like that though."

The two men are silent, dragging thoughtfully on their cigarettes.

"It's like she can sense danger." He begins again. "And then she's gone. To the toilet or something. But never into the middle of town like that. And if that creature..."

"Do you think she wanted to see it?" Lema muses "A UFO-head like that would run miles for such an opportunity. She even tries to talk to the Dalek, some people say."

Sec's existence as a local character is accepted rather than tolerated. The mildness of his manner, the obvious fact that he isn't fully Dalek, are taken by the residents of Martin with a kind of silent, guilty fascination.

"My God, what is that girl's deal?"

Bell laughs, and stubs out his cigarette on the outer sill.

"Helen is overseeing the detention group. I called the Darcey girl's mom and she says she'll be coming at half past."

"Good. Then we're not needed around here anymore. My place or yours?"

"Well, my heating is still broken. And I won't be able to cook."

"I was going to suggest getting a pizza. Nobody cooks these days."

They switch out the light of the office, and leave a few minutes apart from each other.

The injustice of it stings. Reece pushes the last desk into place with an overly loud screech. She almost hopes Mrs Finnamore hears her. It's just wrong! Blaming the victim. She is _traumatised_. Whatever slid down the hill that morning could have killed her, and yet they kept her back.

She wipes away a tear. The only salvation is that she is alone. The taunting of the classmates would be too much to bare. Reece has never had a detention before; not once in her whole two years at High School. Her record is blotted, and she doesn't like it.

Reece had considered Running Away again, but she thought the better of it. She can't get into more trouble.

And even worse, she imagines what Bethany Korrs would have to say about it.

 _"Trying to be bad-ass now Reece? You're totally gonna go to prison now. You're gonna get with an older woman. You wanna be their bitch._

It's stupid. It's all stupid and she knows it, but the thoughts rush past none the less, and they make her flush with fury.

Reece glances at the clock. Quarter past. Thank god.

She pushes out of the classroom and into the corridor. She still can't believe that they made her clean up; that's the janitor's job. It's job stealing. Basically slavery.

Mrs Finnamore is playing mahjong on her computer when Reece knocks, and hurriedly minimises the window before letting her in.

"Of course you can go." She says warmly. "Are you getting a lift."

"My mom's coming round."

Mrs Finnamore nods.

"Alright then. They kept you back incredibly late. I'm not sure what to think."

Reece agrees but stays silent. She's not fond of being on a par with a teacher in terms of opinion.

Somebody has drawn onto her locker. The wonky anarchy symbol has been carved crudely with a compass. It hadn't been there earlier. Reece feels affronted, but doubts that the vandalism was aimed at her personally. If it was, it would have been something offensive.

She finds a bench outside and sets herself down to wait. It's so cold, but the school building is creepy. With the lights turned out, it has become an ominous square of stone, a shape with dead windows vanishing grey into the clear night.

Her phone's low on charge, and she feels too low to play anything. She just remembers the sniggering behind her in the corridor, the sound of high heels clacking behind her. Bethany Korrs shouting in a sing song tone.

"Yo, Reece. Yeah I'm taking to you! Stop looking like a butt."

The shrill cackle of her cronies. She remembers picking up the pace, focusing hard on her _Adventure Time_ sneakers. The shouting begins again.

"Hey, hey look at me! Don't be so rude!"

The footfalls becoming a run. Why wouldn't anyone stop them? The corridors were full. Reece remembers boing her head, breaking into a sprint...

And then the snow crunched under her feet. Everything was white. She's safe...

Then when she re-appeared, stumbling onto the sidewalk just in time to see the young men standing around, the burning smell of unearthly weapons. She was scared at first; was there a gang fight. But then she saw the creature; charcoal black, larger than a whale. And the conical machine that erupted through it, as if it was liquid, dragging a figure along beneath it.

And it had been Sec. He had rescued the unconscious man, defeated the monster, saved the town! She had known he was good, really. A _good_ Dalek. An outcast, like her. She remembered how grumpy he had been at the store parking lot. A world away from that little tank. He was wrapped up in a woven blanket, a mismatched tartan scarf. The big, wool-lined hat only just obscuring the tentacles that twitched under the flaps. His single, brooding eye. Anyone else would have been afraid, but not her. Maybe one day he'd be her friend. He'd get that she was sensitive, and smart, and awesome. Was he annoyed with her? If she changed her tactics maybe...

The idea of having an alien friend fills her with hope, the sense of being special. What could it be like? To finally be Somebody?

The cracking of tires on the loose stones shake her out of her daydream. She looks up. A jeep is approaching. It is a land rover, brand new. Not her Mom. She'll be late as ever; it's a long drive to their place.

She ignores it and jams her hands deeper into her pockets.

But the jeep screeches to a stop. She doesn't hear the door open, but footsteps are coming towards her.

"Reece Darcey?" A soft, unfamiliar voice asks.

"Yep." Reece's answer is automatic. But then she jolts, realising, looks up.

A woman, tall enough to be a model stands before her. She is wearing an expensive looking coat and has long, loose straight hair. She must be around twenty or thirty years old. In the dark, Reece can't really see her face.

Alarm bells go of in her head. A creep. A stranger. But are abductors young and attractive?

The woman seems pleased. Reece imagines that the outline of the face soften.

"Good, I hoped so. I'm Tanya Weiss; Your Mom sent me to pick you up. She got held up at the hospital with an in-patient. Cold, isn't it?"

Reece has no idea how to respond.

"My Mom's never mentioned anyone called Tanya before." She says at last, hesitantly.

"I don't imagine your Mother tells you much about any of her colleagues though, does she?"

This truth strikes Reece in a place already sore. She reaches out and grabs her rucksack.

"Look, sorry, but she said she'd come over. She answered the phone when the office rang."

The woman laughs. Her voice is kind and musical.

"They did ring. And they were told that your Mother will be arriving at half past five. But it wasn't your Mother talking."

"Wait, what?"

"It was me."

Suddenly the woman's arm is clasped around Reece's neck. Burning terror rushes through her. It is impossible to scream. She struggles, bewildered, terrified. The warm cotton of the woman's coat is pressed against her nose. It smells vaguely of perfume. Something sharp is pressed into her neck.

And in a moment Reece collapses. She becomes limp and slides to the ground, held up only be her attacker's arms.

Tanya Weis sighs, glad that it's over. Her colleague walks towards her from the jeep.

"I told you she was a stupid kid. Didn't even have to use the darts."

Her colleagues face is hidden by a black scarf. His anorak blends in with the night.

"The head won't talk. Camera's won't have caught anything."

"Excellent. We'd better move on though. Nasty business, but someone's got to do it."

They place the limp girl in the back of the car, like a sleeping toddler exhausted from a day's play. She is hidden behind the mirrored glass.

Tanya Weis hums to herself as they drive out of town and into the wilderness.


	6. The 6th

I can't bare to look at the thing anymore.

It's been ten hours of sampling, cups of coffee, leaning over the microscope and trying really hard not to get killed.

I have only just tidied up the lab. The Leech, as I've decided to call it, is locked away in the subterranean level, surrounded by sandstone and my scribe field. I ache all over and really just want to take a rest.

I switch on the lights of the tanker, and groan when I see the hole in the ceiling. It comes out as a horrific, modulated whine. I open a cupboard, only to find that most of my whiskey has been stolen. Only one bottle has been left. The Prittchards certainly made themselves at home. I'll get them back in a small way. I could fight their mother easily in my casing. It must have been quite a risk for them to break in, when I could have been at home, a fully equipped and active Dalek. I remember pre-ordering the fuel, and perhaps the store clerk told one of them...

I don't know. I don't care.

The oil tanker is a small living space, but much more than I need. I built the interior myself: cutting out the windows with my laser, setting the cupboards at the right height for Dalek ergonomics for my lazier days. The floor is salvaged wood; I sometimes have splinters. A camp bed heaped with woven blankets lies at the farthest end. There is an improvised chair; a simple frame with an indian blanket fastened at the corners to make the back and seat. Made that myself. It's not a lot, but it is fairly comfortable.

Lonely though.

I snatch up the whiskey with my plunger, and watch it stir around the bottle as I extract a long draught. A nauseating rush hits my system, tingling, fiery, staggering but wonderful.

No; I deserve to be lonely. I can handle it. There is no pressure to gain approval or imagine for even a moment that I could ever integrate with mankind. The people of the desert are kind enough, perhaps a little simple. But I am no friend of theirs, and that's the way it should be.

I need the drink. The Monster won't get past the forcefield; one of the simpler discoveries of the Cult. I didn't even have to scan it with my casing: as soon as I took the tissue sample she exploded like a tidal wave, only to reel back when she struck the edge of the circle.

She. Yes. Definitely a she.

I watch the stars through the skylight. Perhaps they are monochrome from my casing, but their names dance before my sight. A little novelty I programmed myself.

As I pass out, I remember the sound of a woman crying, lonely and haunting.

I am the keeper of a vessel of ghosts.

" _Hello? Hello? Jesus, you picked up, can't you hear me!_ "

The voice is shrill and awakes me and my stomach cramps rudely. It rattles around the interior of my casing like a trapped animal. Then I remember; the telephone setting. Why did I ever install it?

My eye flashes into light, and I see a dazzling winter light stream in through the skylight.

"Who is this? How did you get my number?" I make no attempt to hide my anger. The speaker lets out a breath. Is she relieved? How is it that I recognise her voice.

"Is this the Dalek?"

"Take a wild guess."

"Oh God, oh God… its Reece's mother. Reece Darcey? The guy at the store said she was talking to you yesterday. I got your number from him. I'm sorry, I..."

She sounds terrified. The lack of context, the sudden intrusion unsettles me.

"Is something wrong?"

She's speaking so fast that I wonder if she is delirious.

"My daughter's disappeared. I don't know where else to turn. Reece is gone!"


	7. The 7th

"Right; is it light enough now? Because I'm ready."

The Doctor is holding a copper coloured device, turning it over and over, but does a double take as I re-enter the bridge of the TARDIS.

"You took your time." He remarks.

"What do you expect? That place is a labyrinth; there's bigger on the inside, and then there's excessive."

"Yes. But why are you dressed like that."

"Because I like it."

"But we're in 2016, not 1890! You look ridiculous."

I look down at myself.

Under the _beautiful_ ribbed coat I picked out a long dress made of lavender cotton. The torso consists of a ruffled blouse with ornamental buttons, a black hem and a petticoat. It smells of age, and yet the material is fresh and untouched by wear or decay. I shrug.

"Well so do you. Did you soak your jumper in sugar before you put it in the closet? Looks like the moths have been at it."

"Yes, no, well; that's different! I'm the Doctor. I have to look eccentric or people might mistake me for being normal. But we're trekking through a desert in winter; we have to be practical."

"This _is_ practical!" I reason. "It's what ladies wore for expeditions."

"Fashion is an important and noble artefact; you'll ruin it."

"Then consider that payment for abducting me."

The Doctor opens his mouth as if to argue, but closes it, glowering.

"At least ditch the hat." He suggests, exasperated.

"No. I _like_ the hat."

"Your funeral."

He holds out the device so I can see. It looks as if it has been badly put together: wires stick out all over the place, and little lights flash. But in shape, I can't help but notice, it looks exactly like a dowsing rod; a forked stick that my friend Melanie and I would use to find things in the playground and in my garden as kids.

"Anyway; this beauty should help us find what we're looking for. If we're close, it will begin to flash. Kind of a warmer colder system, if you will."

"So, are we just going to sit in here while you drive your phone box around the desert?"

"No!" The Doctor almost sounds offended. "That won't be accurate enough. We have to go on foot."

"What? But that will take hours!" I don't want to give him the satisfaction of having to change footwear. But something twinkles in his eye.

"Take a look outside." He suggests. "I just hope you don't have any allergies."

What can he mean?

I climb up the steps, lifting my skirts as I go, and crack open the doors of the TARDIS.

Something snorts.

They bend their long necks to the ground, the low morning light shining off of their smooth coats. The closest one, a dapple grey, lifts his head, fixes me with docile brown eyes, and then shakes himself, his light mane flying. Both, he and the chestnut beside him, are both readily saddled and bridled.

"There!" The Doctor cries from behind me. "I didn't say that they'd be _our_ feet, did I?"

I turn away from the two horses.

"Where did you find them?" I've always been delighted and a little intimidated by the animals.

"Oh; they found us. I think they belong to a paddock not far from here. They'll go back once we're done with them."

"But...how?"

He comes out to join me, locking the TARDIS door behind him. He carries two shoulder bags, one of which he throws at me, and I catch it, just.

"Let's just say that when you're my age, you end up making friends with all kinds of different people. Including people who own smelly, stupid yet incredibly useful mammals."

This point was a little vague. The dapple grey stamps as I throw myself in an ungainly fashion onto his saddle, using a boulder as a mounting block. The Doctor has a little more trouble, and the horse whinnies irritably as he scrabbles into place.

"Ever rode before?"

"Once or twice." I once considered joining the equine centre at the NYPD, but I didn't make the cut at the time. And that was almost ten years ago now.

"Well, just follow my lead. There's plenty of time to learn."

And he's right. In the morning sunshine over the grey scrub, I learn a lot of things about riding.

First of all, that although I am sitting still, my butt becomes incredibly sore.

Second, that a horse's fart is a sound like thunder.

And thirdly, that the Doctor believes that he can talk to them.

After an hour into him telling the chestnut that Chinese takeaway is far better than oats, I flick the reigns and my horse jolts me to stand alongside.

"You haven't actually told me what we're looking for. Don't you think that that would be helpful? For the both of us?"

"Quaker or Scott's?" He demands.

"…Pardon?"

"Look, I'm trying to exchange porridge recipes here and this idiot has his ideas all wrong. So; Quaker's or Scott's?"

I'm taken aback. This must be a Scottish thing, so I take the safe answer.

"Well…Scott's I guess."

"WRONG. Horses don't eat porridge. Take that!" He yells at his ride. The horse trots onwards, apparently oblivious. I take a different strategy.

"My God! What's that on the horizon?"

The Doctor's head snaps forward.

"What? Where?"

"See?" I point. "It must be the monster we're looking for! It's green and fluffy and burps rainbows."

"Really? The thing we're looking for is black and can shapeshift and has too many legs-"

"Which I would have known. _If you'd actually told me!_ "

"Oh for goodness sakes!"

A light breeze shifts the dust under the animal's hooves.

"You're so needy! Just try and take the initiative, Dalek Girl!"

"Call me that one more time and I might get Snowy here to trample you. I'm not. Fucking. Psychic."

The Doctor scowls and looks forward.

"I brought you here to be quiet and do as I say. I don't like soldiers, and I don't like Daleks too much either, or people who sympathise with them."

"I don't." I protest. "Why do you think I hate the name?"

"Because it's like a very low concept comic book character?"

"Yeah, and that. I'm not a soldier."

"But you work with them."

"Yeah." I admit. "But it's a sad prejudice to hold."

The Doctor sighs.

"See, this monster; it's a long story…"


	8. The 8th

"There's a spot not far from the Caydon system called Leverett Nine. It was named after the family who discovered it. He planted a planetary wide garden to celebrate the wealth brought to his family through opal mining. His parties were legendary. There was a species of nearly every plant discovered on any planet by his kind there, even of the highly poisonous and the sentient mobile variety (they lived in a large enclosure and visitors were advised to wear masks against acid spray). And every year, on the original Horace Leverett's birthday, a shower of opals would be launched across the sky as a fabulous artificial meteor shower.

The planet was blown up by the Sontarans.

Legend has it that he mistook a member of the renowned warrior race for a rare species of walking potato. But they would have made any excuse to begin a battle, and Leverett and his family didn't stand a chance.

Bit of a pity.

It's just kind of a cluster of asteroids now. Some still have patches of lawn on them. I think one is part of a rose bed. Later on it became a site for a minor battle in the Time War, and afterwards was forgotten.

But the thing is, Leverett Nine has a little known secret.

Every five Earth years, the thousands of opals which were thrown in celebration still pass that spot. It's truly beautiful; they have all become frozen together into a comet, and it passes so close to the rim of the little asteroid belt that it throws everything into a green and sky blue hue.

So when I'd remember, or if I was feeling off or at a loose end, I'd take myself and the TARDIS over there and watch it rumble over.

Point is, five hundred years of my life ago, I took such a visit.

I tell you, it is otherwise a ghastly spot. Most places that were caught up in the War are. You don't even have to know; a feeling in the pit of the stomach that something just isn't right hangs about the place. It is the remnants of events that simultaneously did and didn't happen. Leverett Nine is only bearable because of the comet; an event that lasts less than an hour.

I arrived just in time, and sure enough the vast glacial trail of the comet was passing overhead. An incredible temporary sky passed over the cluster, making the bare jutting rocks around me glow with the eerie light.

But this time, something fell from it.

A stream of white crashed like debris onto the surface a few metres away, and me being me I ran over at once to have a look.

It was burning cold and sealed in ice. I scooped it up in my jacket and took it back to the TARDIS. Waited for it to warm up.

After a while the ice melted.

Inside was a magnificent black opal, the size of my palm. It was perfectly oval and smooth, as if hewn by the most skilled of craftsmen. When I turned it in the light, a myriad of white crystals dazzled back at me like winking eyes.

Now gemstones, as pretty as they are, are completely useless. As lovely as this one was, it couldn't have functioned as anything more than a paperweight.

And I kept hold of it nonetheless.

I imagined that one day I could be in a pinch, and might need to win the favour of an aggressive tribal chief or an angry monarch. Pretty pebbles seem to keep the powerful and bored happy for long enough to run away from them.

It didn't keep President Nixon happy.

It was so long ago now. Well, it feels like a long time ago. My then travelling partners and I had been landed in the centre of a conspiracy, and, well, we had to run. Wonderful people. So alive. I just wish...

They captured me first.

They took away everything, had me chained to a chair for a stupidly long amount of time. My clothes, a vintage tweed suit no less, was incinerated.

Once the US government had the sense to let me go, (and I acquired a new, _nicer_ version of the same suit; each one's unique you see), I realised that the opal had been in my pocket. It _had_ been useless, and it had never saved me. I made a point of collecting less souvenirs in the future.

The day before yesterday, in your time, I picked up a distress signal from a cargo ship.

This vessel was enormous. Roughly the size of Earth's moon, it would have taken a lifetime to explore on foot. The crew quarters was only the size of an office tower in comparison. And it was in that small space that I arrived.

When I stepped out of the TARDIS, I wondered if the power had failed. Everything was black. But when I reached out and touched the walls, they felt soft and unpleasantly cool, as if growing a layer of moss.

Only five crew members remained. They had been cornered in the bridge. They were cat-kind; humanoid, fairly nice, but can often be kind of full of themselves. These ones were too afraid for that.

"It was something in the cargo." The captain, a calico with a large beard explained. "We were given a pirated load from the Caydon system; needed to get it to the Horsehead Port by next week."

"Well, what is it?"

The captain shook his head. His long whiskers flickered as he did so.

"We think it hatched. Take a look:"

On the control desk, the grainy monitor showed a tabby standing off duty. And then..well...the shadows just kind of swallowed him.

"Vashta Nerada?" I suggested, aghast.

"We don't know; possibly."

"Then we've got to evacuate. I'm sorry, but there's nothing else we can do. We'll have to burn the ship."

"But the cargo?" Begged a cornish rex. "How are we going to explain this? How are we going to get paid?"

I shook my head.

"You'll manage somehow: it's better than having the flesh ripped from your bones in less than a second."

They piled into the TARDIS, after the captain initiated the ship's self-destruct sequence.

I was about to close the door.

"No, get rid of them!"

"Come on captain! We could sell it to scientists or something-"

"No! Or I'll throw you out with them! That's an order!" The captain snarled.

The young rex looked close to tears. She pushed past me, took a pile of black opals from the pockets of her overalls, and threw them one by one into the damned ship.

I stared, horrified. Before she could cast away the last one, I grabbed her by the paw.

"Wait; where did you find that?"

"They were with the cargo. Captain reckons they're eggs. Look, just let me chuck them, I don't want to get into more trouble-"

"Yes, but the cargo..." I swallowed. "Didn't you say it was from the Caydon system."

"It was. But one of the lads was wearing one as a joke. He was the first to get eaten-"

I could barely speak.

"...Just get rid of it." I managed. The rex needed no further encouragement.

The TARDIS shook badly as we took off, and the captain demanded the right to watch his ship burn, give her the proper send off.

As soon as the first flames began to consume her, I rushed away. I dropped the crew at their destination.

Then I plunged myself into my books and records. Scanned the best information databases I could reach at short notice. Did my homework.

See, the Vashta Nerada, living shadows; they don't hatch from eggs like that.

Oh, a lot of terrible things spawned from the Time War. They came from both sides, and spilled from the tears and voids the Time Lords and the Daleks left in their endless fights.

There's one in this desert, Eliza.

And we have to hunt it before it finds any humans."

There is an emptiness in the Doctor's eyes. He is almost as grey as the landscape around us.

Under us, I feel the muscles of the horse rolling. The clopping of their hooves is rhythmic, almost mellow.

I try to ignore my throat.

He takes in a long breath.

"I could trust Sec. That's why I wanted to find him. I want to know which side of the war this...this _thing_ came from. I need to know how to destroy it. And, as I'm sure you know, he was an expert in killing things."

I feel a little sick. I could do with a drink. I think the Doctor cold do with a bigger one. He blames himself.

"I...I don't know what I can do to help." I tell him. "But, I guess it's my job. I'll do whatever I can."

"If we can catch it, then we can look for your Dalek friend." The Doctor shows no sign of consolidation. "We'd better stay alert. The sources I read; they're pretty vague."

The air is cut apart by an electronic whooping. The Doctor's saddle bag is glowing.

He fumbles with it, and draws out the device. The little lights twinkle like psychotic festive tree decorations.

"We're close. Catch."

This time I'm ready, and close my hand around the handle.

The Doctor in turn takes a long thin device from his pocket, a pen or a screwdriver, and holds it in front of his eyes.

"You give directions, dear Eliza. I'll control the horses."

"This is insane." I tell him.

I think I see him smile, and this warms me a little.

"Exactly. YA!"

With a flick of the reigns, the chesnutt lifts his head and thunders ahead. I yelp as mine makes to follow. And soon we're travelling parallel, to the crest of the horizon.


	9. The 9th and The 10th

Mrs Darcey is waiting for me in the doorway of her trailer. She hasn't got out of her pyjamas, and the pink chord sways in the wind, her long black hair sways likewise.

Her face doesn't even show revulsion as I step out and run over to her. My appearance, alien and raw is frightening to most people. But the circumstances must overrule. My Mach III travel casing is in the back of the truck; just in case. The campsite is a desolate place, a score of caravans parked with no particular organisation, and beyond them the wilderness.

Mrs Darcey turns and walks inside, indicating for me to do the same. A green festive wreath has been hung on the door, and I notice it as I walk into the shuttered interior.

"Mrs Darcey?"

"You're here. Jesus, you came. I didn't know what else to do…" She laughs; a sound that could have been a cough. Her hands are shaking. "You're even uglier up close."

The remark is almost reassuring.

"Have you heard anything?"

"No, nothing. My little girl's gone. There was no CCTV footage. Nothing. Reece is gone. My baby's really gone this time. Reece always came back before."

She stands by the counter, all beige and meticulously clean apart from a sink full of dishes. Her eyes are dead. Her face is as motionless as stone except for her jaw, which trembles constantly as if to make up for it.

"I'm sorry." A lump rises in my throat. I mean it. And as a creature that once felt little other than hate, it takes a lot to mean it.

"They tell me she was talking to you." Ice creeps into her voice now. "The Sheriff is blaming it on you. They'll come with their tanks and fucking helicopters by the end of the day."

She falls silent. I contemplate her words, and realise I'm not surprised in the slightest. She looks up, and I follow her gaze. The interior is only a little large than mine; but cut up by dividing walls. There are sheets of lined paper lying on the booth table. Nahele Darcey is staring at an open door. Reece's bedroom. I can see a blue bedspread, floor strewn with clothes; a studded belt, a pair of jeans. A poster showing a cartoon kitten with huge eyes, is peeling from the wall.

Her mother rubs her eye with the heel of her hand.

"I couldn't…my husband had to keep the store open. Things have to look as normal as possible."

"I swear to you I know nothing about your daughter." I tell her firmly. "I'm going to do whatever-"

"I know you didn't. Take her, I mean."

I pause. I don't expect the affirmation. I expect more blame, more anger. But it doesn't come.

"…How?" I ask.

"Because I got a letter." She explains. Her steps are slow, drunken, as she walks over to the table, and returns with a piece of crumpled paper. Reece's mother unfolds it, straightening it out, before handing it to me. I look at her questioningly, and see that it has been typed. I begin to read:

 _The Darceys,_

 _It has come to our attention that at approximately 17:45 last night (12/01/2016), you arrived at Martin High School in order to pick up your daughter, only to find her missing. You have alerted the local authorities who have questioned the school and residents of the town._

 _We can only imagine the pain and fear that you are going through._

 _We wish to inform you that your daughter is alive, well, and currently under our care._

 _However, if you wish for her safe return, then we shall have to demand a certain condition._

 _Yesterday morning, there were reports of an unidentified life form of notable size entering the town. It was subdued by a small force of volunteers, under the command of two non-human life forms. The latter of which, a mutation later confirmed to be a Dalek Sec, took the creature into his possession._

 _We would like this creature to be given to us in exchange for your daughter. You must contact Dalek Sec and either ask for his cooperation, or direct us to his location so that we may find it ourselves._

 _We apologise for the grief we have caused you._

 _Unfortunately, without your cooperation, we will no longer be able to promise your daughter's safety._

 _We have no desire to harm her, unless it becomes necessary._

 _Do not make any further attempts to call the police._

 _Find the Dalek, and we will return her to you safely_

 _You have two days._

The letter was not signed.

I feel my heartbeat all over my body. Mucus trickles down my neck. Nahele has been reading the letter over my shoulder. She is crying. Silent rivers of tears swell and stream down from her cheeks. Her entire body shakes as she breathes out.

"They were very precise." I remark.

"They were."

"So that's why you called me here."

"Yes."

The slime on my hands is soaking into the paper.

They are out there now.

I have been lured here like; to be trapped like a fool to a cry of alarm, only to be attacked by criminals.

"I wish I could say that I'm sorry…" Nahele's voice holds no emotion. "You never caused any of us any harm."

I have to think.

Outside, someone shouts. Heavy boots crunch on the sand.

I let the letter fall to the floor.

I look Nahele in her empty eyes.

"I became incredibly angry and tried to attack you. You hit me in the brain with that skillet."

"But…"

I grab said instrument from the sink and hand it to her.

Before she can say anything, I tear open the cupboard above the oven. There's a jar of pasta sauce. Perfect.

I smash it onto the counter, pour the contents over my head, and drop to the ground. I look into her shocked face. Beg that she understands. Then I yell as loud as I can:

"I surrender! _I surrender!_ "

And at that moment, the door is kicked open and a stampede of figures in desert camo appear, and then freeze.

Nahele has leaped in alarm, her hands tremble as they hold the skillet. The sauce is slipping into my eye. It is cold and it stings. I whimper, try to stand, and my hand conveniently slips in a puddle of the condiment and human-Dalek slime.

The figures step in cautiously. All of them wear tan jersey balaclavas and eye protection. Hopefully, they won't catch the smell.

"What the hell is this?" A gruff male voice demands.

Nahele lets out a real sob. Please.

"He tried to attack me. Dear God, I was so afraid and I just…I just…"

She is an amazing actress, even with a broken heart.

"You did that? We told you; we needed him in one piece! How are we-"

But he never finishes as the ceiling above him is ripped open.

"What the -"

A bolt of white-blue energy hits him in the head and he moans, crumples. I leap to my feet, and rip his gun from his grip.

"Nahele, get down!"

The Dalek casing echoes my real voice.

One of the spooks raises his pistol, but I swing the gun, catch him in the gut. He crumples and his comrade is taken out by another bolt of lightning. My focus switches: I have an aerial view. They are coming out from behind the other vehicles, in lines, like ants. They came prepared. I didn't. But there aren't as many as I suspected.

"Take out the freak: then the robot can't shoot! We want him alive, repeat-"

One of them kneels to the ground, raises the barrel of a cannon. I swerve through the air as the hooked projectile whistles past, electricity whipping up the trailing cable. Two shots later, he and his reinforcements are curled on the ground. Then I remember something.

With a migraine jolt, I'm back in my real body, swaying in the trailer. Nahele is nowhere in sight. From the lining of my anorak, I take a small flask.

The scribe field.

I pull of the lid and leap from the caravan and into the open. There are three armed charging from different angles. I tip the flask; a blue chalky powder cascades out, drawn in a line. Two of the spooks hold guns. One holds a blowpipe. He raises it. Trips.

His head collides with the air above the line of powder, and as it does, there is a blinding flash. Energy forks up from the line and through my attacker. He shakes, and is thrown across the park, hitting another trailer. His comrades' halt, amazed, and a few moments later are curled on the floor. Struck down by Dalek weaponry.

I collapse to my knees.

Every muscle complains; my very bones hurt.

Breathe in, one…two…three.

My Mach III remains in the air; a pillar of black, me as a sentinel.

Dizzy, I stumble back into the trailer.

"Nahele? Mrs Darcey?"

A long-haired head appears from the bedroom. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"It's alright." I tell her as she gazes at the curled bodies. "But you need to get out of here."

Something smacks into my mandibles. I reel.

"What the _fuck_ did you do?" She shrieks. "You've killed them! They'll kill my baby! Why didn't you just do as they said? You testicle headed _freak_!"

I dodge the second blow, and grab her by the shoulders.

"Nahele, you have to calm down! These men aren't dead, and they're not going to hurt Reece. I won't let them."

Nahele is sobbing steadily now. She looks up and I can barely see her eyes for tears. She buried her head into the front of my anorak. Her head is warm and heavy.

I feel confused by the contact. What should I do? How do I respond?

At a loss, I hold her away and kneel to look into her face.

"I'm going to get your daughter back, Mrs Darcey."

Nahele looks up.

"How?" She croaks. "You only know how to hurt and kill."

I feel heavy with shame. But I shake my head.

"Whoever they are, they want the Leech – the monster I mean. They're not the government. They're not UNIT. If they were, they wouldn't have kidnapped a teenager and used blackmail to get what they wanted. They'd have been more conventional. They're not going to give her back."

There's something I'm missing. Something to do with the girl and the monster.

Then I remember. How she appeared, apparently out of thin air, when the Leech attacked.

"Mrs Darcey." I say slowly, as gently as I can. "Has Reece ever been able to do anything…abnormal?"

Nahele sniffs.

"God, you ask now?" Then she laughs, a high pitched, terrified laugh. She's in shock. What else can she do? Nahele collects herself. "She has her own little world my baby. She vanishes all the time."

Vanishes.

"How do you mean."

Her mother shakes her strands of hair.

"It's been going on since she was…God…twelve, must've been. Her teachers kept ringing me up to tell me she'd run away, disappeared. But then she'd always be back within the hour. At first, I thought she was just running off. But, where would she go? We're surrounded by the plains; there's nowhere to hide for miles."

"Yes, yes?"

"Then it started to happen here, at home. Like, when she doesn't want to do her chores or her homework. Then she's gone. Used to drive us crazy, but she was never gone long. At first I thought…that was what had happened. But she had never gone all night. I told the Sheriff, just to be sure. Then the letter-"

"Nahele, _Nahele_!"

We look up as Mr Darcey appears, gazing around in dismay.

"What the hell's happened around here?" He pushes past me and throws his arms around his wife, protecting, afraid. "Sec, what the hell did you do? Why are you bleeding?"

We're running out of time. Bearing in mind everything I've learned, about the girl, about the strange occurrences, I stand up.

"The spooks will come round in an hour. When they do, they will have reduced mobility for the next few days, but still, I recommend you both get out of here."

The Darceys look at one another.

"Drive to a city; find a hotel or family to stay with. I'll stay in contact."

"But what are _you_ going to do?" Mr Darcey demands. With his dark chiselled face, black hair and strong, stocky build, neither he nor his wife suit the surname.

I focus my conscious, and look out once more to the aerial view of the Mach III. I scan the plain carefully, using sight alone. It is cut in half by the road that leads to Martin, and meets with the parking lot where Reece spoke to me yesterday morning, the fluttering banners of the Darcey garage and auto sale. And on the other side: the trailer park and the wilderness beyond…

A tiny black dot sits on the plain, around a mile away from us. I zoom in, exploding my view. It waits on the uneven surface of the scrub, a midpoint between the road and the darkened mountains on the horizon. A black land rover. A figure stands in front of it. They have binoculars raised to their eyes and I cannot see their face at first. Then they lower them. I see a tall woman with a thin pale face, loose hair.

Carefully, I descend to the ground, switch back to my body. The Darceys are watching me questioningly. I turn to them.

"They're waiting in the desert. I'm going to talk to her."

"Her?" Gosheven Darcey's hand tightens into a fist.

I think, and then summarise the plan. I don't like it, but it will possibly have the least dangerous consequences.

"I wish you both good luck. I will do everything I can."

"Sec."

Nahele stands close to her husband, his arm draped protectively around her. I wait.

"Your kind; we've all seen their ships light up the sky. They moved this planet. You _will_ bring our girl back." It's a command, almost a threat.

I look away, leave them standing in their ravaged kitchen, and step over the unconscious bodies out into the winter sunlight.

I never want to make promises.

She is taller than I first imagined. Her long cotton coat, presumably light in colour, does not look suitable for the desert. She holds her binoculars in leather gloved hands.

Two more spooks, one unmasked, stand either side and raise their weapons and I approach. They must have seen my signal: a white shot. A truce. I stop with four metres between me and them.

Her curiously shaped eyes, somewhat large for her face, take me in; the scratched bodywork, the two weapons bared, the dusty black skirt section.

She takes in a breath before speaking.

"You took out my entire task force, and you've still come out here to negotiate. I thought the Daleks were supposed to be intelligent." Her voice is soft, articulate with a flat, news reader perfect accent.

"I left your men alive. I only want to talk."

"Then why did you attack?"

"Because I do not appreciate capture. I wanted you to know who you are dealing with."

She studies me silently, then she folds the binoculars and hands them to the spook on her left.

"It's not you we're interested in, Dalek." She sighs, almost bored. "We only want the specimen you captured. I just didn't think you'd be this…negotiable. And then, as we have no idea how dangerous this creature is, we thought that it would be best if you handled it for us. You seemed to manage well enough yesterday."

"That's all?"

"That's all."

"Then why did you kidnap the girl?"

The woman pauses. A breeze shifts her long hair and bangs. She has kept it in perfect condition.

"Your cloaking device is a remarkable piece of technology. We couldn't find you ourselves. That Indian family had exchanged goods with you. I knew they'd know how to contact you."

They're lying. But I'm not going to let on.

"Tell me;" she begins again "why do you care? Are you sure you're a Dalek?"

"I don't." I glide closer. "She is a crawly and unremarkable adolescent. I have little to do with her."

"That's interesting." A smile plays at the corner of her painted lips. There is something disturbing about it.

"I will give you the specimen. I will transport it to wherever you are based. None of your force shall be further harmed. But you return the Darcey girl as soon as it is done. Those are my terms."

"And they are far better than I anticipated." The woman's smile is full now, and she shows her perfectly white, straight teeth. "I almost wish you were on my team. You could be infinitely useful. I trust you to lead the way. Any tricks, and that poor little girl...I'm sure we have an understanding."

She steps into the land rover. Her subordinated watch me loathingly at first, and then climb into the back. There must have been a separate driver.

I push away from the desert floor, watching the cloud of dust that whips underneath me. This is an ugly business. The same world I ran from. I have to keep a level head. Think like them.

They follow from underneath as I glide across the plain.


	10. The 11th

We come across the ranch in under an hour.

It consists of little more than a long fence, a pair of careworn silos, and a shabby low slung building painted hooker's green that sprawls between the two. The establishment sits in the shadow of a boulder studded hillock, and looks very much like a building pretending not to exist.

Brandy (this is the name I've given to the chestnut horse) snorts thirstily as the Doctor dismounts, landing carefully on both feet.

"Are you sure this is the spot."

I look down at the device that I cradle by the reigns. It admits a low, steady hum; an almost nervous sound, and a red light blares brightly. My palms are sweaty from holding it, yet the backs of my hands are dry and sore from the cold. I should have picked up some gloves.

"I think so. Unless I missed how this thing works."

"Mmmm; you haven't. Not bad." The Doctor looks at our surroundings, hawk-like. "Then we'd better proceed with caution."

I dismount ungracefully from Snowflake (my dapple grey stallion). Anticipation, mingled with dread, rises in my throat. I've noticed a major disadvantage.

"So, I'm guessing we're using the Power of Love to defeat this thing."

The Doctor looks at me, appalled.

"Don't be disgusting!" He chides.

"Ah! So then I guess we'll be using a large boulder! Or a lasso; or simply charging. Doc, we don't have any weapons."

"You're so unimaginative Dalek Girl. Who even _uses_ weapons? Horrible things."

"Well, this _is_ America." I reason. The Doctor chews his lip.

"Even so, we're going to observe it, hopefully see its weakness, and ideally not be killed. How does that grab you?"

I consider.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard!" I conclude.

"Well," The Doctor is tying up the horses. From his bag (and I'm suddenly reminded of Mary Poppins), he struggles to pull something large than the rim, and then hauls out a pair of buckets, and a plastic office water jug. I watch, impressed, as he fills the buckets in turn, his birdlike figure struggling a little with the wait. "It's how I've done it so far, and I'm doing pretty well in terms of long levity."

I can't argue with that.

We leave the horses drinking, and make our way down the slope towards the ranch. I haven't been able to get a signal on my phone. Haven't called Lewis. Feel both appalled and very accepting of myself, which is a mixed-up way to feel. But mostly, I'm afraid. This lasts until we are within a hundred yards of the farm house.

"It'll have crawled inside. No marks. Maybe we'll have to smoke it out."

"How come the inhabitants haven't noticed."

The Doctor looks at me as if I'm simple.

"They haven't. This place is abandoned."

"Okay. Then what about him?"

A man sits under the veranda, on a stool, leaned with appalling posture over his phone. The earthy, fox-like smell of his joint drifts over to us. He looks up. The Doctor raises his eyebrows, as if almost offended at the figure's apparent alive-ness.

I decide to handle this one.

"Good morning!" I call cheerily. "Sorry to bother you, but me and my friend were wondering if you've been eaten by any grimy extra-terrestrials lately."

The man continues to stare, his mouth hanging open. Never mind aliens; he looks as if he's seen a ghost.

"I suppose it's a bit of an odd question." I continue. "But my..." I look at the scowling Doctor "adoptive grandfather here was wondering if it was the case."

"MA!" The man shouts, and I leap, heart going wild, as he lifts a quaking shotgun from his feet. "MA! There's a pair of goddamn _spooks_ out here of the ghostly kind!"

"That dress." The Doctor mutters. "Told you it would get us killed."

"Being _black_ is more likely to get me killed." I say, in a very high voice.

There's a crashing of footsteps, and three more young men, unshaven, well built, burst out of the screen door and stare at the man, and then us. I can tell that they're all related.

"That ain't no ghost Juniour; they're from the carnival!" The blond-haired, heaviest figure remarks scathingly.

"Still; they're on our property!" The shouting brother's joint has dropped to the floor.

The screen flies open again, and this time, both I and the Doctor jolt.

A large steel figure with empty round eyes lumbers out, clicking and hissing.

It's been years since I've last seen a Cyberman, and a flood of unpleasant, panicked memories fill my mind.

I don't, however, remember any of them wearing pink floral aprons.

It looks at us with unblinking eyes.

"PUT THE GUN DOWN JUNIOUR." It commands. "AND WHO THE HELL ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE. TRAVELING CIRCUS?"

I sigh internally as the brother, unconvinced, lowers the weapon. The Doctor glances at me, mouths if I'm alright. I feel a stab of gratefulness.

"...May I ask you the same question?" He fires back. "What is a Cyberman doing out here?"

"You don't call our mother that!" The second tallest brother shouts. His apparent twin watches us somberly.

" _Mother?_ " I squeak. The Doctor continues to look surprised, then shrugs in acceptance.

"I'm very sorry sir. Madam. It must be very hard and you're coping very well. Now; have you seen any _actual_ aliens?"

The Cyber...woman (I suppose), shifts her stance.

"AND WHY DO YOU WANT TO KNOW? YOU FROM THE GOVERNMENT? SHERIFF SEND YOU?"

"No; I sent myself."

One of the brothers sniggers. The Cyberwoman is silent for a moment, and is then apparently satisfied.

"WELL. WORD GETS AROUND. AS A MATTER OF FACT SIR, WE DID."

"Oh?"

I clear my throat, having fought a potential panic attack.

"We were tracking it, and our ticker led us here. Is it...here now?" I ask, as steadily as I can.

The Cyberwoman turns her head in a quick, smooth motion.

"SAUL? YOU GET OUT HERE. WE HAVE VISITORS."

There is silence. And then, from the back of the building a fifth young man appears. He is pale, clean shaven, but healthy-looking. He squints at us, smiles, and then doubles over, heaving. His brothers recoil, and the Doctor and I exchange glances.

A thick black sludge cascades from the man's mouth, splattering onto the old boards of the veranda.

"What the hell? Is he okay?" I ask.

The Doctor pulls a face of pure joy. He leaves my side and rushes towards the man, like a dog after a dropped tit-bit.

"MY SON SAUL HERE WAS SWALLOWED BY THAT THING." The Cyberwoman explains, watching the Doctor as he inspects the sludge, and then takes a big sniff. "LOOKED LIKE A RIVER OF TAR. YOUR GRANDPA OKAY THERE?"

"Um..." I watch the Doctor, stomach turning, as he grabs the alarmed Saul by the jaw, inspects his teeth, peers into his eyes. His brothers glance at each other, some smirking, others looking as confused as I feel. "Don't mind him; he's senile but he means well."

"Naw, the creature was attacking the town." One of the twins calls over. His eyes look me up and down, and then focus on my own. I shudder, and thinking of Lewis, wonder if they'll let me use the phone.

"Yeah, but we took it down." Says Juniour proudly.

"You _did_?" The Doctor looks up, looks back at me. "So you killed it."

"Naw, the Dalek...oh hey Walter, tell them about the Dalek!"

The Doctor freezes.

And so do I.

"There's this crazy old Dalek on the edge of town. He hasn't killed no-one like them others. Don't stay in his shell, ugly as sin. We got him to help us take it down."

"He _did_ save me though." Saul says numbly.

"A sissy Dalek."

"WHO SAVED THE TOWN."

No. It can't be. How in the world...

But how else?

"Sec?" I ask.

All eyes are on me now. The boys look approving. The Doctor electrified.

"You know him?"

"A supreme one? Black casing?"

"WHY SURE. HE TOOK THE CREATURE WITH HIM EVEN. YOU SHOULD ASK _HIM_."

My heart races.

"Wait; where is he?"

The Doctor leaps from the veranda in a single bound. The tallest brother points.

"Follow the main road, head east. You turn off at the dirt track after old man Darcey's place."

"But be careful; he's a crazy bastard."

"I know!" The Doctor and I say in unison.

"WELL, GOOD LUCK. IT'S A REAL MAZE."

"And drop by again sometime!" The twin with the wandering eyes shouts.

I nod back, thanking them, and then lift my skirts as I sprint back up the hill, the Doctor floundering behind me.

I untie Snowflake, begin to mount.

Sec. So he's been here, all along. An exile in the desert, the defective Dalek.

My friend.

"Eliza!" The Doctor shouts, and I look down. He's out of breath, concerned.

"Why the rush? Look, I know you and him were acquainted and all, but it'll be stupid just to jump in."

"Shut up." I snap. "He's got the alien. He's been here all along and killed two birds with one stone."

"He's still a Dalek Eliza!" The Doctor roars. An animal rage enters his voice.

I stop. Sit still in my saddle. The Doctor draws in a long breath. I notice that he looks grave, ashen. Afraid.

"You _know_ what he did, Eliza." He says, in a tone that he can barely keep level.

A lump rises in my throat. I remember the wizened face. The blue eye, like the machine eye, wide, pleading.

"Yes. I do." I say. "He killed thousands of humans and other life forms. And he experimented on more."

"He tortured them."

The old man's grey eyes empty. And suddenly, suddenly I see that they are not human eyes after all. They are older. They show ages, so many live and die. But most of all, they show fear of it happening again.

In an effort to brush him off, to keep my dignity, I never _saw_ him.

But he hasn't seen everything.

"Yes." I agree. "He did."

"So how can you just leap on your horse and go to that Dalek like he's _family_? Like he's the one thing he'll never deserve to be?"

I bite my lip. I feel my old anger rising as I saw the Black Dalek, the hybrid last.

 _Go. Get out of here. Oh, they won't catch you, but I never want to see you again! You hear?_

Did I mean it?

He's right. We are stepping towards danger.

"I don't know Doctor..." I say at last, "and I don't know if anyone ever will. But if someone has truly, _literally_ changed, can they be forgiven?"

The Doctor swallows. Looks down.

"I'm going." I tell him. "Even if you don't. Even if you're right and he does shoot me on sight. But we need to find out what this thing is. You said it yourself; we need Sec."

The Doctor closes his eyes, as if in pain. Then, moment over, he strides over to Brandy and mounts in a swift (but wobbily) lift.

"Yes. You're right. That's what I said. That's what I meant. But then I'm taking you home."

I nod.

"I'm sorry. You fought the Daleks."

"Don't be." The Doctor flicks his reigns. "I've heard it all before."


	11. The 12th

From the sun roof of the land rover, one of the spooks is keeping Disabling cannon trained on me.

I try to ignore it, and try to think.

What could they want the Leech for?

I seriously doubt scientific curiosity; or why would they have resorted to emotional torture to get hold of it?

If they are working for the government, then it would make sense that they would try and get past me, a member of a known aggressive species without causing open conflict.

But then why not go straight in with force? Kill me for it even?

And I still cannot forget the teenager. Why _Reece?_ Why not target somebody powerful, like a lawyer or a sheriff?

We are driving off road, straight across the plain. The ground below is rising into a slope and jagged sandstone formations are rising from it.

"The Devil's Crown?" The woman's voice emanates from within my casing. I connected to her walkie-talkie through my psychic web, so that we may communicate. She sounds impressed. "No _wonder_ we couldn't find you. How very appropriate!"

"The route ahead is dangerous." I warn, ignoring her. "You must follow me exactly, or you shall become lost."

I rise over the canyon, indicating one of the wider entrances to the labyrinth. It occurs to me that I could quite easily lead them astray. Lose them and then take the Leech out from the lab, away from them.

But I remember Nahele Darcey's empty eyes. Her tears.

Now is not the time to use cunning.

I sink into the gully and wait for the rover to approach. Its engine works, and its tires struggle, but it is a suitable vehicle. I lead them deeper and deeper into the maze, and wonder how this business can end.

I'm getting the hang of the gallop.

The dowser bleeps with a steady rhythm, light flashing. The Doctor stays close, letting me take the lead.

"It's the perfect place for him, really." He calls over the wind. "Middle of nowhere; plenty of UFO sightings. No one would really be bothered."

"It's a lonely place."

"There was even that Cyberwoman!" The Doctor goes on. "See what kind of a place it is; little the Universe."

"Well; I guess he has something in common with the neighbours; not having a lot in common with anyone. Perhaps _you_ should settle here!"

"Not likely. That'd be suicide for me."

I glance at him past the flying mane.

"You haven't exactly made yourself popular." I agree.

The mad man in a box. What would _I_ do, if I could live forever and had infinite travel possibilities?

The temptation to play God; that must be a pretty big factor.

"So why The hell do you do it, Doctor?"

"Do what?"

The hat I pulled from the dressing room pulls threateningly in the wind. It is tied at my chin by a ribbon, but I don't know if it will hold.

"Why do you save people? Get on all the Space Mob's bad sides?"

The Doctor, leaning forward in his saddle, seems to consider.

"Well, morality aside, because I like _this_. The running. The universe would be awfully dull without something to run from!"

I don't believe it. But I understand.

"I kind of see what you mean."

The dowser's signal is becoming stronger. Not long now.

The Rover pulls into the clearing, and the spook drops from the sun roof. The door clicks, and the tall woman steps out, looking around.

"Quite a place you've got here!" She remarks. "Very dramatic."

I turn to face her, raising my weapon.

"Remember my condition, female. You do as I say, and then we get the girl. I do not want trouble."

The woman nods, showing her unsettling smile.

"Very well. But we don't want this to be a trick. Is there any way you can disable that gun of yours?"

 _Do as she says. The sooner this is done…_

The Mach III splits open, and I blink in the winter sunshine. As I step out, the woman takes a step back. Even her cool manner is broken and a look of disgust briefly passes over her head. The spooks clutch their weapons.

"Better?"

The woman has coppery hair. Her brown eyes have an almost golden tinge. She examines me for a moment, and then nods.

"Very good. But may I ask, what exactly _are_ you?"

I give no answer, and head past my oil tanker and up the slope to the shipping container.

I leave my casing behind.

Only one of the spooks follows.

I activate the DNA scanner on the door, and then lift the handle. The woman steps into the dark behind me, her and her subordinate staring at the equipment.

"You're well stocked. But where is the specimen?"

I lift the hatch to the subterranean level. The hole is the exact size and shape of the bottom of the Mach III, with the liberty of the stepladder.

"Down here."

As I climb down, I notice the silence. The Leech had been screeching as I had left it last night.

I drop to the floor, and look over to the tank in the centre of the room.

The Leech has melted itself into a tar-like pool. As I approach, wondering if it is sick, a tendril raises, turns towards me like a waking animal. An unnerving hiss rises from it.

I remember the sobbing.

There is the tapping of feet on the rungs, and the woman drops into the pit, followed by the unmasked spook. Her face lights with satisfaction as she sees the Leech.

"There! I'm glad we could trust one another…Dalek?"

I crouch and sweep away a section of the scribe shield, leaving a gap. A sensor in the flask means that only the one who laid the trail can disable it. There is a buzzing, and a bluish sheen flashes around the circle momentarily, then vanishes. The Leech gurgles and presses against the glass.

I don't want to do this. I turn to the woman.

"Is there any way it can be tranquilised?" She is asking. "We can't take it in that; how did you transport it in the first place?"

"May I ask you something?"

The woman tears her owlish eyes from the Leech, and looks back at me.

"Of course. But I have so many for _you_." She takes a step forward, becoming uncomfortably close. "You're not a Dalek, obviously. You refuse to kill, and you have no motive for keeping this thing."

"And nor do you." I refuse to move.

She shrugs, pouting a little. Her manner is disconcertingly girlish. She circles me, and I try not to look away.

"We just want to research it, you know. Find out where it has come from. If it is dangerous."

"No. That is what I was doing."

" _Really_?" Her voice is mocking. "That's interesting. Knowing your kind's track record, I would have said that you were utilising it into some kind of weapon."

She reaches out suddenly, almost playfully, towards my touch my brain. I flinch away, feeling angry and a little afraid.

"But you're not one of them now, are you?"

The Leech has pressed itself against the glass. It is almost as if she is listening. Yes, she is a she. Her for Reece, but I was right. The tall woman lies.

 _Steady, Sec._

"As far as I know, she can only be subdued by my weapon. I can set it to stun. If you will let me."

" _She_? We're on the territory of _gender_ now? You've done well for such a short amount of time. Very well. Go with him."

The unmasked subordinate nods.

"White Owl." He acknowledges. He is in his mid-years, a lined face, strong nose, and wary brown eyes. He looks as if he is trying to hide fear, but I wonder if it is I or the Leech he is afraid of. Or neither.

He follows I clamber up the ladder, and out into the daylight. I look around for my casing.

It is lying on the ground, on its side. A long cable trails from its side, and electricity arcs from the black metal.

No.

I turn, but too late. Something hard smashes into my ribs. Suddenly I'm on the ground, retching and winded. The sole of a boot slams into the side of my neck.

Sideways, I see the woman, White Owl, appear from the lab.

"So you're Dalek Sec? The Columbia Facilities' little secret? I had my suspicions but I wasn't sure."

"What is this?" I bark, fighting bile. "You said you only wanted the Leech!"

"We did at first. But I think we need you too. You'll be of great value to our project. As will the girl."

For the second time, right into a trap.

The dowser has led us into a maze of rock.

The horses tread carefully, their hooves gently kicking the loose stones. I cannot help but gaze in awe at the layers of sediment in the surrounding pillars.

"I don't remember old Supreme One being much of a geologist." The Doctor remarks pleasantly.

"No. Me neither."

It's hidden; a natural defence of deception and uneven surfaces. We've discovered tire tracks, and follow them up the gully.

There is a thunderous rumble, and then a crash. It echoes off the stones. The horses toss and grumble.

"What the heck was that?" I look at the Doctor, who is examining the sky.

"Can't be thunder."

"But then-"

And then a thought occurs. Sec has been keeping the monster here. What if he lost control?

"Shit."

Without thinking, I lean forward, and draw Snowflake into a gallop.

"Eliza, no! Think for a moment!" The Doctor's shouts are lost in the echoing of hooves.

I'll think once I get to my friend.

The spook increases the pressure on my back.

White Owl re-appears from the inside of the oil tanker. She carries one of my submachine guns, and turns the caged barrel experimentally.

"I'm sure this will work just as well."

"Tell me why you want Reece!" I snarl through crushed lungs. Icy panic is setting in. I have no control; no casing. I am wretched, defeated.

"The Darcey girl? She has…abilities. Abilities that we can use. Yesterday, at exactly the moment the creature reportedly entered the town, she vanished from the high school. The two have to be connected."

This hadn't occurred to me. I struggle, but it's futile.

"She is nothing special." I argue weakly.

"No? Well, we'll find out in time. With the help of the Dalek's genetic expert. I'd love to see that gene splicing method in action. Put him out."

"You'll receive _nothing_ from me."

The other spook crouches, taking a hypodermic syringe from a black case. White Owl turns. She no longer smiles.

"We will. You can't stay silent forever."

"Ma'am?"

She looks up.

"What is it, Wolf?"

I hear it too. It echoes around the mouth of the labyrinth.

The sound of hooves.

The spook with the syringe pauses and I, with difficulty, turn to follow their gaze.

A grey horse appears from the maze, and slows. The purple clad rider raises her floral head.

"Hey!"

The rider drops from its back. The voice is one I would know anywhere.

She is dressed bizarrely, like a ghost in Victorian dress. Her dark head, freckles under a mass of frizzy, black hair, and the enormous hat, is as youthful as I remember.

White Owl has frozen, and squints, as if trying to work out whether she is looking at an apparition or not.

And then someone tumbles into the guard above me with a yell.

White Owl whips around, but the purple rider charges, and slams into her with a perfect right hook. She topples, letting out a cry of shock and rage.

I'm free. I leap to my feet and kick the crouching spook from under the chin. His head snaps back, and he's down.

The rider and white owl wrestle on the ground, like a scene from a particularly surreal dream. White Owl tears the ridiculous hat from her head. Grabs the rider by both the wrists. The black girl pauses. Then she smashes her face with her forehead.

Impressed, I snatch the syringe from the unconscious spook.

The other figure is being overpowered by my captor. I don't recognise him. And elderly man. White hair. Velvet suit covered in dust.

I slam the syringe into his opponent's back. He grunts, and then his arms slacken.

He drops on top of the old man like a sack of stones.

"Ooof!"

And silence returns to the clearing.

I turn to the woman in the lavender dress. She has stood up, and is brushing the dust off her skirt. Her black eyes meet mine.

"…Just in time." She says. The New York accent is almost nostalgic.

"Yes. Just. That was stupid. They could have killed you."

"I think it was the element of surprise that did it."

"Probably."

There is a pause. My palm is grazed. I've thought about it for so long now; what I would say. And now, I'm too amazed.

I swallow. Then finally think of something.

"Why are you dressed like a character from _Hello Dolly_?"

"Why are you still horrific and dressed like someone from _Fargo_?"

I look at the unconscious bodies, and then back at her.

She has broken into a smile. Laughs.

And I'm doing the same.

The unstoppable Eliza Birchwood runs into my arms. We embrace like family.


	12. The 13th (Unlucky for Some)

And my God, he hasn't changed in the slightest.

I guess that's the power of formaldehyde for you.

His gnarled face is perhaps speckled with more liver spots, and those gross, worm like tentacles seem to have grown, and now hang twitching below his shoulders. And as we hug, he still smells terrible.

But I love every part of it; and I am so, so happy to see him.

"I've missed you." I say into his jacket.

"I've missed you too Eliza." Says Dalek Sec, blue eye bright. "How did you find me?"

"Dickensian coincidence. What the hell's going on here? How come I always end up having to save your butt?"

"Because you never know how to leave things well alone; that's why." He frowns in mock severity, and then shakes out of it with a daft grin.

"Are you _quite_ finished?"

We turn. Naturally, in my joy at seeing Sec again, I had forgotten about him.

He is still sprawled under the unconscious man in the desert camo. He shoves the man off of him and flounders, scowling, to his feet.

Sec seems amused.

"Who's your friend?" He asks.

"Him? Well, er..."

My heart sinks. The Time Lords and the Daleks have hardly had a smooth relationship. And that's putting it very lightly indeed. Seeing my hesitation, the hybrid throws the Doctor a questioning look. Turns out, I don't need to bother with an introduction.

"It's been a while, Sec." He says soberly.

Sec squints, doesn't seem to understand.

And then, his eye widens.

I've never seen the smile fall so fast from someone's face.

"What are _you_ doing here?" He snarls. It takes me a moment to realise that he's trembling.

"Oh, same as ever Sec." The Doctor walks closer. "Turning up once the going get's tough. A bad penny. A stone in a shoe."

"You're an old man."

"Well done. I see that having only one eye hasn't affected your eyesight after all."

Sec is _afraid_. I expected tension, possibly anger. But not this.

"How's Diagoras doing?" The Doctor continues. There is no trace of any warmth of humour in his tone. "If there's anything left of him in there."

"Don't. Don't; I'm _warning_ you." The hybrid's lip curls.

No. Oh no. I haven't come all this way for this; to watch two mad aliens tear each other to pieces.

I throw myself between the two of them. Both Doctor and Dalek jump.

"Oh for the love of God, both of you _shut the FUCK up!_ " I yell.

My voice echoes off the surrounding rocks, the last syllable repeated until it ebbs away into silence.

The two of them stare at me; the Doctor looking as if he had forgotten I was even present. Sec looks alarmed, then a little ashamed.

"Look;" I breath in furiously, "I don't care _what_ happened between you two. But Sec, it's been years since I last saw you. Don't...don't prove him _right_. And _you!"_ I turn on the Doctor. "They said you were fundamentally a pariah of peace! I don't care what he did; but don't make me bash your heads together!"

The Time Lord and the Dalek Hybrid drop their stances, throw each other poisonous looks. I feel my cheeks grow hot. _Children._

"Now Sec; who did we just beat up? What did they want with you?"

Sec scans our surroundings.

The tall woman stirs, groans. She had incredibly sharp nails. She still clutches my Gibson Girl's hat in her hand. I stomp over to her and wrench it from her grip.

"I don't know." Sec's voice is huskier than I remember. He sounds breathless and understandably shocked. "They were after the...well, it is a long story and there isn't any time."

"The monster." The Doctor finishes for him, brushing off his jacket. "We already know. That's why we're here. Dalek Girl here wanted to see _you_ I suspect, god knows why. That's why I took her in the first place."

Sec's head snaps up.

"What do you know about it? And wait," He looks at me questioningly. " _Dalek Girl_? What kind of a name is that?"

I shrug, smiling sheepishly.

"Well, before we get on," I suggest, looking at the bodies. "I think we should tie these guys up."

Sec has several lengths of tow rope stowed in the rusting oil tanker; which turns out to be his living quarters.

"It's crazy, I love it!" I tell him, truthfully. "What was it doing to crash out here?"

"It never did; I saw it at a vehicle graveyard and had it airlifted. Same with the laboratory."

"How much did that cost you?"

Sec throws me a fathom of rope.

"Nothing. I showed the pilot how to make fuel from virtually oxygen, and he did it in exchange."

"Huh."

The Doctor explains that a brush with Admiral Nelson once means that he can tie any kind of knot, and he's not lying. (Heh. Get it? I'll show myself out). The three of us pull the trio into their unlocked black land rover; a fancy ride with mirrored glass, and dump them in the trunk.

Sec, the Doctor and I watch them. The woman looks out of place between the two soldiers. As a last touch, I retrieve a black case from the ground, and the Doctor doses them up with whatever dope they were to use on the hybrid.

"They'll sleep like babies." He remarks, satisfied.

"They kidnapped a girl." Sec turns to us. "We have to get her back."

"They did _what_?" My head suddenly bursts with questions. "Why would they do that?"

"She's called Reece. Just a teenager. The White Owl woman thinks she has some kind of ability. That it might have been what attracted the Leech- the monster I mean."

The Doctor raises a hand to his mouth, appears lost in thought.

"After the Cyber Woman's clan and I defeated the monster, I took it back here."

And he explains about the hostage situation. His neighbours the Darceys, and how he was lured to them. How before he could fulfill the terms, the White Owl woman had attempted to take him.

"Where is the creature?" The Doctor asks. Sec nods, and we follow him into the shipping container on the hill. He leads us down a tunnel in the centre.

Even before my hand has left the first rung, a gurgling, boiling hiss rises from the hole. My hairs rise to their ends. I remember what the Doctor said; how such a creature devoured an entire crew. I'm not sure I want to see it.

Sec is waiting at the bottom.

The space is hewn roughly out of the rock, and has curved walls with a rounded tank set in the middle. The very air quivers as its occupant slams itself against the glass.

My heart leaps, as on first glance it looks like the filth-some Slyther that attacked us when the Dalek and I first met.

But no. This creature has no features; is little more than a wall of gelatinous liquid. As the Doctor drops down behind us, his colourless eyes fill with awe.

"My goodness... look at _you_..." He murmurs. "Quite the monster...no wonder the Cat-kind were terrified."

Sec gazes up at it, looking grave. I remember then; the chambre under the city. What he had done to the people the Cult of Skaro stole. And ugly, unwanted, I feel an old stab of confused, hating betrayal.

I had sent him away. Does he remember? I'm too scared, too ashamed to mention it. Will the hybrid be?

"I did my reading." The Doctor has circled the tank. The Leech, as Sec named it, appears to follow him with its tendril of a head, growling threateningly. "And I think I came across such a thing in the Time War..."

The hybrid turns to him suspiciously.

"What are you implying?"

The Doctor lifts a finger.

"You tell me."

"The Time War? The famed end-of-the-universe mega conflict you guys had?" I look at the thing in the tank. It is as horrible as the Doctor described; an oily, polluted looking creature. And yet, it doesn't look incredibly powerful. "With all due respect, it doesn't seem so dangerous."

"It's pathetic." Sec agrees. "Doctor, if this was anything borne of the Daleks, then it was not of our creation. The Cult of Skaro; we _were_ their weapons. Everything they used came from us, but there's nothing of this description in any of my files. Perhaps the Time Lords created it."

"You _sicken_ me." The venom in the Doctor's voice is potent. It can almost be felt. "But it might be true."

Sec colours. He catches my eye, and looks away, focussing on the floor. He breathes in.

"Doctor, Eliza; listen. I promised the girls parents that I'd get her back. Regardless of where the Leech came from, they want it. She has to be saved."

"And _would_ you give it to them?" the Doctor asks. "Thought about being diplomatic."

"I tried; it did not work."

"Then something I've learned; never make promises you can't keep." He adds, exasperated: "Why do you even care?"

"Basic human decency." I pipe in. "Something you have yet to learn. You're hardly squeaky clean when it comes to kidnapping."

I see Sec grin slightly at my defence.

"He's no human! He's a mockery of one. I'm not going on a go-for-broke rescue mission. "

"A _teen,_ Doctor! That's basically an embryo in your years; if that!"

"Please." Sec says. And then he appears to remember something. "You owe me, Doctor. I was willing to _die_ , remember?"

The subtext of this statement makes me glance at him, confused.

The Time Lord looks between us. Shoves his hands in his pockets. Turns away, then glances back.

"Fine!"

A look of relief sweeps across the hybrid's form. From behind the glass, although I think I imagine it, the Leech lets out a tiny squeak. It is almost as if in celebration.

"Thank you."

"But you don't know where she is!" The Doctor snaps. "What are you going to do? Use your sink plunger to tear those Soldier's heads apart? Little forte of yours if I remember rightly."

"The Soldiers?" I think. Stupid! Why didn't I think of it before? "No; there's an easier way."

Sec and the Time Lord follow me back out into the chilly desert air. I dive into the trunk of the Rover, straighten up with White Owl's phone.

"Here!"

I look over to where Sec's casing lies on it's side. A wave of nostalgia hits me. To think I was once afraid of this thing! If possible; it's even more filthy than before. I tug away the cable attached to the side, and begin to lift it. It is as heavy as I remember too, and Sec rushes to my side to help.

"Do the honours."

"With pleasure."

The Doctor watches as the machine splits open, steam gushing. His mouth hangs open.

"You can control it from outside? Couldn't do without it, eh?"

"You could say that." Sec grins.

The blue light flickers to life, and he extends his plunger. Turns it.

The touch screen blinks, then flickers with binary. We wait. The hybrid has closed his eye, concentrating.

"They are based at a temporary camp. It is less than twenty-five kilometres from here."

"I've missed old rusty there." I smile. But the Doctor has flinched.

"I haven't. You and he would get on, Sec. You too Eliza. If I can find him again I'd better introduce you both."

"Then its go?" I ask.

"I think so. No problem with you."

The Doctor laughs sarcastically.

"Well the horses aren't going to be able to do that!"

"No," I reason. "But the Rover will."


	13. The 14th

_Lincolnshire, England_

She is shelling peas and watching the changing light in the garden. She hates winter days. They are hardly days at all; sometimes, the streetlights don't even switch off. The leaves drip with excess moisture. Constant rain; no promise of snow. _The Archer's_ on the radio.

The door creaks open and in comes Amir. He smiles weakly, his greying beard moving with his cheeks.

"You're Dad's settled in." He informs her.

"He didn't find the Port yet?"

"No; not yet."

He wraps his warm, jumper clad arms around her shoulders. The peas clatter into the colander over the sink.

"You didn't have to cook, love. I said I'd do that. You've had a long day."

"Amir, it's fine."

He reaches to take the colander away from her, but his wife shrugs him off. From the corner of her eye, she sees an expression of hurt fill his face. And she regrets it. She knows how callous she has become, but in truth, the numbness blocks out all other feelings. She is almost too tired to care.

"June," Amir sighs. His drooping eyes focus on the kitchen tiles. "Look; I know this is going to be difficult, but we're all doing our best. I know it won't be the same..."

"I don't see the point." June lets the colander drop with a clatter.

"Darling-"

"No, Amir. I don't see the point in pretending anymore. I don't want a Christmas. I don't want everyone cluttering up the place, and asking how things are. They can all go to hell for all I care."

The spout of honesty is exhausting. Amir looks shocked. She shakes her head. She could cry, but the tears are long gone.

"I don't want to hurt you all, love. I mean it."

Still shocked, her husband pushes past her, and picks up the peas.

"I'll finish this." He tells her. He is a little mouse of a man. She wishes he would get angry sometimes. Scream. Break something. But he never does. His docility is a form of status quo; pretending that everything is okay.

As June pushes open the door to the living room, Amir draws in a shaggy breath.

"I just want you to know this has been hard for all of us. I'm trying June."

She closes her eyes, and lets the door shut behind her.

Her father is standing by the mantlepiece. His little round head sits comfortably in the collar of his green sweater, his corduroy trousers ending in a pair of brown tartan slippers. He is holding a photo frame. The fire has been lit, filling her with suspicion.

"Did you light the fire Dad?" She demands.

The little elf of a man turns, his old tanned face lighting up.

"June! I didn't hear you come in; you're so quiet."

"Dad, I told you. It's not safe for you to be using matches."

"Ohhh," He waves a leathery palm at her, "don't listen to the nonsense the home is telling you."

It is, admittedly a good fire; like the ones she remembers as a girl in their old stove. It is too warm for a fire, but it sets the mood, twinkling in the golden tinsel set under their festive cards. But he's made a mess. Tutting, June crouches and sweeps at the ash.

Outside, in gloom of the rainy evening, the church bell tolls a cheerful rhythm. The sound used to bring her joy. Nightmare on a Sunday morning. But now, she could give or take them.

She glances at her father's hand and notices, although perhaps she already knew, who the photograph is of.

"Did you get any tea?" She asks, her voice high and strained, even to her.

"She really looks like your mother, you know. It's the eyes; they just have the same look about them."

She should have put the photograph away. Amir wouldn't hear of it, but for the love of God, she didn't want to have this conversation. She knew what her father would say.

"When did you say she was coming home?"

"She isn't, Dad."

Her father appears not to have heard, then he looks down at her, aghast.

"Not coming home? But it's Christmas, love! I know she's having a nice time with that nice young man of her's, but we're her family!"

"No Dad. I told you at the home the other day. Karima is missing."

"Missing?"

"Missing, Dad! Remember? After she went on her backpacking trip. They recovered Chris, but they never found _her_."

And the pain, again, sinks through her father, Oliver Cotes.

"Our Karrie?" He murmurs.

June finds that she is crying. Well, crying is a word for it. Her eyes feel wet, but the pain isn't the same. It is frustration, despair, but she can't sob.

"No...but there must have been a mistake! Our Karrie can't be dead."

"Well, the police over there didn't say that, did they? But I don't...I don't keep my hopes up."

Her father is shaking his head. He seems confused rather than sad, as if the knowledge will not compute. And then a wiser, understanding look fills his face. She is reminded, cruel as it is, of the man who took her mother and her on long walks in the country; who taught journalistic writing at the University, who was always level headed and understanding.

"You can't give up hope, love." He says warmly.

June Caroline Luthra shakes her head. He's a fool now. Every month, his memory has become worse and worse.

But must he be such a ruthless optimist?

The door creaks, and Amir appears. He looks at her, as if frightened that only being there will make her angry.

June never wanted to become a tyrant.

As she cries, her father holds his little girl, and the sweet, heart broken man to whom he gave her hand strokes her arm.

"We'll make it all right. We'll have a lovely time, love. I promise."


	14. The 15th

" _You were_ kidnapped!"

"No! No, nothing like that!"

" _Eliza I was_ sick _with worry. I almost called the police."_

"I know Lewis, I'm sorry. There wasn't any signal to call you earlier. Look, the Doctor and I found Sec."

There is a pause. We wait as Eliza uses the contactless phone in the Rover to call Lewis back in New York. They are still together, and this makes me incredibly happy, but pensive as well. I think of all the things I have missed, how much time has passed.

" _Sec? But how? Where is he?_ "

"I'm right here." I lean into the interior of the car.

The Time Lord is talking to the two horses, making sure they are comfortable to be left by themselves.

" _Oh..._ " I hope for jubilation, laughter. Neither are given. " _Sec, you were there all along? It's..it's good to hear from you._ "

Eliza catches my eye, but as i look up at her she looks away.

"Good to hear from you too."

" _You'll look after her?"_

"Of course Lewis. But she doesn't need me to." I reply.

I think I hear Lewis sigh.

" _I know. But, you know, you hardly...you're not the safest person to be around._ "

"With the Doctor here, I _am_ the safest person in the world."

" _Look; whatever you're doing, I'm trusting you to take Eliza back alive. This isn't her fight._ "

There isn't anything I can say to that.

"Okay. It was good to hear from you. Hope you've kept your hair trimmed."

I leave him to talk to his partner.

Eliza takes the wheel, and I, rattled from my near capture, opt to take the travel seat. The Time Lord will sit in the back.

We carry the three sleepers from the trunk and dump them in the front seats of the oil tanker.

"What happens if they come round?" Eliza asks.

"Well, they're shut in there, aren't they? They won't be able to escape too easily."

"But what if they don't? We don't want them to die."

She had a valid point, so I found a packet of crackers and left it on the dashboard just in case.

I navigated my casing into the back of the Rover, and now we are driving bumpily off-road, across the desert.

Eliza's unusual clothing choice does't match well with the new leathered interior of the vehicle. I wonder if the long skirt will interfere with the pedals, but she manages fine.

We travel in silence. It is a silence of me trying to think of something to say, to either of them, then deciding it's no good. It is a silence of Eliza concentrating, of the Time Lord's disapproval.

It frightens me to have so dangerous a being so close in such a tiny space.

"Do you recon they'll be alright?" Eliza asks, twenty minutes in.

"Who; the Soldiers?" The Time Lord sounds weary. He leans over our seats, not wearing a seatbelt. "Do we want them to be?"

"No; I meant the horses."

"Oh. They'll be fine. They have water and grass. Those blankets should keep off the chill."

"What about the Leech?"

I look round. The Doctor shrugs.

"Well, It should be fine too. You reset the witch circle, didn't you Sec?"

I shudder at the use of my own name.

"Scribe circle. And yes."

"Good."

We fall back into silence. This is broken by the Doctor explaining, a little patronisingly, that we should not lose our heads, that we do not know who these people are and that it would have been a lot easier to just hand over the Leech and be done with it. Eliza says she agrees, or she would have if I hadn't suddenly become part of the deal. The Doctor mutters something about karma and falls silent.

After ten minutes I glance back and see that he has fallen asleep. His mouth hangs open, and he looks at that moment incredibly old, very human, and very vulnerable. In the legends, it was told that the Doctor never slept. Some even dictated that he had no eyelids; but I never believed this.

I glance at Eliza.

We have begun to traverse over higher ground, and she is keeping a firm eye on the path ahead.

My happiness at seeing her again has ebbed a little. The strained conversation with Lewis did that. I am afraid of her, of what she thinks. It is as if I know that things can never return to the way they were before.

"...I'm sorry." I say at last. It comes out mumbled. Eliza raises her eyebrows.

"What are you sorry about?" She asks, apparently surprised.

"Well, about..."

"About what the Cult of Skaro did?" She lets out a quick laugh. "Because the murder and torture of thousands of people can be made up for by a quick apology in a car."

This hurts. Pain that is not of the flesh can linger for longer, burn in other ways. The Dalek side of me wants to become angry, but I stop it. I wish it were gone.

"...It's why you sent me away." I remind her. "And I did not want to believe that you'd forgiven me for it. I was right."

Eliza shakes her head. Her kinky fringe shakes.

"Sec, listen. I wasn't angry at you. I _know_ you're sorry. I guess I did it because...because I'm angry at _me._ "

I look round in surprise.

"At yourself? But why?"

"Look," Eliza speaks rapidly now. "You're vicious, you've done evil things, and I still stand by what I said about you looking like a scrotum. I'm sorry, but you do! And even though I know all of that, and tell it to myself; you were one of the best things that has ever happened to me."

I stay silent, unsure what to think. The vehicle shakes as it strikes a boulder. Eliza swears. Keeps looking forward.

"But you were hurt." I remind her.

"I could have been hurt anywhere. But if it hadn't been for you," she goes on, "I wouldn't have seen another planet. I would never have fallen in love with Lewis. I would never have gotten a job that I love and realised what I wanted to do with my life. Sec, you were an incredible friend to have. But...I thought...after all that you did, people would think that I was _wrong_ to think so. I feel guilty about you. Lewis more so. He trusted you, but I don't think he knows how to handle it yet. Especially after hearing from you again."

The Doctor snores, punctuating the gap that follows.

"I'll never tell you that I forgive you. Never. That's not my job. But I feel honoured to know you."

My eye stings, and I try very hard to look out the window.

"I feel honoured to know you, too." My voice is shaky as I speak.

Eliza's smile is small, but warm.

"I hope that's enough." She replies. "Whatever happens now, we'll see what happens. You care about this girl. And I want to help you."

Crying has been described as weak. But it takes a lot of pain to do so, so I don't think that that can be true.


	15. The 16th and the 17th

By the time we are within a mile of our destination, it is dark. The rover paws up the mountains until we reach a mountain basin. Sec informs me that this is the place. I kill the headlights, nudge the Doctor awake.

Sec has been kind of quiet. He sits on the edge of the open trunk.

"It'll probably be best if you're in your casing now." I inform him.

"I know."

"Do you…can you still morph into the tentacled creature?"

Sec winces a little.

"I try not to. I can hold this form better and better, but it hurts a lot to change back."

"You can do _what_?"

In the half light, the Doctor leans round, eyes critical and his breath rising in frosty little clouds.

"That's a little…inconvenient. I suppose your hybridisation process was half baked then, eh?"

Sec blinks wearily at him.

"It was temporal scarring, actually. We found a cure."

"…Oh. Ouch. Well done. Send me the recipe; I think that could come in handy."

Regardless of the hybrid's abilities, there is more than enough room for him to sit up comfortably. He manually inserts the connecting wires into his cranium (a process that I always wondered whether or not was painful), and seals himself inside.

The blue light of the gun-like eyestalk blinks into life. It is dim enough not to be spotted.

The three of us use the outcrop as cover, and peer over the edge to the mountain plateau below.

The Doctor whistles.

"They certainly seem to have made themselves comfortable." I remark in agreement. "It's huge! They can't be that secret; they could be found easily."

"Not really. It is likely that this mountain is sacred. Few would be able to trespass."

"Apart from us, that is."

We gaze over what appears to be a small town of white canvas structures, which glow with moonlike artificial light. Flood lamps are set at intervals around the perimeter, and a skeletal watchtower surveys the milling vehicles. The encampment looks new, temporary, and cannot have been erected any longer than a week ago. I ask Sec to focus in, see if there are any recognisable standards or logos.

"None that I can see. They are all blank. It is peculiar. We need a strategy."

We turn away, the Doctor and me sinking below the rock.

"Well, I hate to say it, but we do have the advantage of having a Dalek on our side." The Doctor suggests. "Sec here could fly in there and atomise everything in sight. He will burn it to the ground; kill anything that moves, and zoom out again with the distressed damsel saved, all in all making a brilliant scene for a movie."

"It's been a while." Sec rotates the caged barrel of his weapon experimentally.

"But we're not going to do that."

"Oh."

"No, I didn't think you meant it." I remark.

"Well, to be honest I thought the Dalek strategy master here would have a better idea; this is his fight, and, to be honest, I don't want to be involved."

"But doctor," Sec protests, his voice grated but set to a slighter volume, "We require your intelligence. They may recognise you, and you may be able to use your influence."

"Exactly!" The Doctor hisses. I roll my eyes. "I don't do snooping, and if we upset these people, then I don't want to ruin my reputation."

"I thought you didn't care what humans think. You certainly seem to kidnap a lot of them."

"Which is rude."

"No Sec; you're even worse."

"Touché."

"No. I'm not a Time Lord nor a Dalek, so I am the one least likely to fuck this up." I sigh, rolling the idea around my mind. The Doctor leans forward, and I explain.

"I don't like it."

"Well; it's our best shot." I rub my hands together. "It's not flashy but it's simple."

"I have to agree with the Doctor." The black Dalek grumbles. His glassy eye paints a little frosty halo in my breath. "Eliza, you are brave, more than capable, but I cannot allow it."

"Doctor; you said that you wanted me because I'm from UNIT. I open doors. Well; you're right. If I use the cover story then we'll be fine."

"Yes; well I…I was _hoping_ we wouldn't have to." The old man protests sharply. I shrug.

"Well neither of you seem to have any better ideas."

There is the odd moment as Dalek Sec and the Doctor exchange glances, the Dalek's wide dome slowly turning to face him. Then they both look back at me.

"Very well. But I will go with you."

"No."

I reach forward and tap him on the skirt.

"You'd best stay here and wait. When we need you, I'll send for you."

"Then I'm assuming I'm coming too?" The Doctor articulates sourly.

"But of course!" I smile. "I'm your assistant aren't I?"

As the night sets in, the chill bites into them, becoming uncomfortable at first, and then unbearable.

As the three of them struggle, White Owl becomes more and more frustrated. Her two subordinates are poorly trained, hardly deserve their titles. And to think that this was going to be an easier task. At last she kicks out, screams in shrill anger. Wolf winces.

"Ma'am?"

"Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ How did that little _bitch_ do this? I should have been ready for this!"

Jackal, the youngest of the three avoids their gaze. She is especially angry with him. Did he _have_ to eat two of the crackers?

"I swear when we're out," White Owl hisses, "I am demoting the two of you! You'll be lucky to be serving at all by the time I'm done."

"Permission to speak, Ma'am?"

"Do you think I fucking _care,_ Wolf?"

"Well, perhaps you should not have hesitated."

" _You_ shouldn't have hesitated! Why didn't you shoot that fucking pantomime dame? And Jackal, that guy was an old man! You should have-"

Outside, one of the horses raises its head, its ears tilting back and forth. White Owl sees this, and hisses for the others to be silent.

Yes. Voices.

"Naw, I still think you're being dumb. He's gonna get after us!"

"Then why the hell did you come, Jock? The girl and her grandpa didn't come back. Old Sec may be a sissy, but he can still kill!"

"I'm trying to make you see sense. If Mama knew-"

"Oh, screw you Jock! We're grown men. Don't it ever seem odd to you that five grown men follow their ma around? Maybe for you, but fuck it if I'm gonna be that anymore. Look; those are their horses! She must be around here. Why if that asshole's hurt her..."

White Owl has heard enough. She kicks the dashboard of the old oil tanker, bangs, and shouts. Her subordinates understand, and begin join in.

"Help! Help, let us out, can you hear us? Help!"

It is only a matter of time before two tall figures come into view through the grimy wind screen. They pause in apparent amazement, and then the door is forced open; letting the icy night air rush in.

The two men are alike in appearance; twins.

"My God, what the hell happened to you people?"

White Owl has thought of a response. Internally, she smiles. Externally, she swallows feverishly.

"It was…it was the Dalek! It kidnapped an old man and the girl; the one in the purple dress! We're from the FBI; we were called in but he knocked us out!"

Jackal and Wolf nod sincerely.

The eyes of the closest brother widen, eye whites pale in the moonlight.

"What? Old Sec? Where did he go? Tell me!"

White Owl shakes her head.

"I can't bear to think…can you help us?"

The twin fumbles in the pocket of his hooded top, draws out a flip knife. With some fumbling, he and his brother sever the ropes, and pull White Owl and her unit free.

She breathes in the night air, shaking the pins and needles out of her legs. She turns to the twins. One has his hands screwed into fists, an infatuated gleam in his eye. The other looks uncomfortable, reluctant.

"I thank you both so much. Do you have a ride?"

"Sure, Miss. Just tell me where he's taken the girl – I mean them. We'll get you right over there."

White Owl smiles sweetly. She's been told that she has a way with men. And she plans to use it to the best of her advantage.

The two brothers look less brave as she leads them into the subterranean laboratory. Before her, the black mass twists like the contents of a demented lava lamp. It hisses, wails, as if in fear.

"You sure you know what you're doin' Miss?" The wary brother asks. "You ain't seen what that thing can do!"

"I can make an educated guest." White Owl raises the shotgun the twins were carrying. Wolf and Jackal wait at the ready.

She fires once, and the tank fractures.

Glass and black sludge scatter across the floor.

And Walter Prittchard swears to God, that he can hear a woman cry out in fear.


	16. The 18th

"...So that's all? Wonderful Eliza! I'm sure we won't resemble swiss cheese by the time they finish firing." The Doctor seemed to dislike my very direct solution.

"Keep it down! Just say what I told you, and for god's sakes Doc; don't sound too rehearsed."

The Doctor and I trudge across the plateau, straight towards the camp. It was further away than it looked.

But very soon, we are blinded by the beam of a flood light. Day-like brightness pours into our eyes, and I raise my hand, blinking.

"Remember what I said about poker!" I hiss out of the corner of my mouth.

"I can't remember anything about poker!"

"FREEZE! Who goes there?"

The dozen personnel who charge towards us are little more than highlighted silhouettes. They are armed and masked; a band of faceless figures.

We raise our hands behind our heads, and I'm grateful for the wide brim of my hat.

"Identify yourselves!" One of the faceless guards shouts.

I catch the Doctor's eye, and he flashes back the quickest of looks. Then he breathes in, as if surprised.

"Well, appears we have our work cut out for us, eh Gertrude?"

It takes me a moment to work out who Gertrude is. And when I do, I see red.

 _Gertrude?_ He owes me twice now. Starting now.

"My golly!" I cry, in the most strained, dignified of accents. I think I heard it off of an old western. "What are these god-awful creatures? How does the sun shine so late into this winter's night!"

Around us, there is a stir. Two of the figures glance at each other. I think I see the Doctor mouth _"Really"_ out of the corner of my eye.

"Oh," he begins again, "The wonders of electricity, Miss Fitzgerald! Someday, all of Atlanta shall be lit by it."

Atlanta? I'm warming to my new alter-ego.

"I asked you to identify yourselves!" The voice barks.

"Very well! I'm the Doctor, and this is Miss Gertrude Winifred Fitzgerald, greatest Kentucky voice of 1905. Now, may I ask you the same?"

The speaker, I can only assume, lowers his rifle.

"Doctor? _The_ Doctor?"

The old man gazes at him through his eyebrows. He looks pale, almost ghostly in the harsh light.

"Oh yes." He confirms. "And we've been chasing a monster here. Perhaps you know of it?"

There is a stir.

"Hold on, do you have papers? You must have papers!"

I watch as the Doctor reaches into his pocket and withdraws a rather crumpled wallet. The guard snatches it, stares at the blank piece of paper inside. His eyes move behind his glasses as if reading. And then he nods.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Sir. You have made rather an impression among this branch, Sir."

"Glad to hear it. Then I hope you know how I feel about guns."

"The Temperance Society of good Atlanta wishes Godly men alone to hold them!" I pipe. The Doctor gives me a quick glare, and this doesn't go unnoticed. There is laughter. The speaking guard points at me.

"Seems like you got yourself some trouble with this one, Sir! Perhaps you'd like us to stay armed after all!"

"You're too kind." The Doctor jokes. "It took her in. It was either that, or prison for drunk and disorderly behaviour."

It's my turn to scowl. The laughter grows.

Our interrogators become our escort, and we are lead across the dirt to the perimeter fence of the camp. The plan is going smoother than I could have hoped. The famous Time Lord and a batty, fish-out-of-water companion turns up on their doorstep. We bluff. We find out what's going on. And if anything goes wrong, Sec is waiting, hidden in the rocks. All the Doctor has to do is give the signal with his fairy wand. Sonic Probe. One or the other.

We are led into the dust coloured, yet pristine interior of the nearest tent. There is a folding table and several open cases containing guns.

"If you'll wait here, Sir. My Private will alert the commander of this operation."

One of the masked figures disappears into the complex. The Doctor is looking around.

"My goodness! Such organisation!" I remark. "Can it be true that the God-awful devil of a creature came here first?"

The first guard removes his glasses and pushes his balaclava below his chin. A colossal mole sits off the side of his highly bridged nose.

"UNIT, I assume?" The Doctor asks casually. "I can't see any symbols anywhere. At first I was confused.

"I'm afraid you're mistaken, Sir."

"I am?"

The Guard clears his throat confidentially.

"We are _associated_ with UNIT, Sir. But we specialise in the location and clearance of extra-terrestrial weaponry."

A shadow passes over the Doctor's face. I glance at him.

"Weaponry, you say?"

"Beat the darn aliens at their own game. If we know all that they are gonna throw at us, then we can be ready and know how to protect this planet."

I am listening intently, but try to look confused, and a little stupid. I have never heard of such a branch.

"You shouldn't have to do that." The Doctor reasons. "You have me."

The guard coughs a laugh.

"And I must tell you that it is a miracle that you found us, Sir. You say you were following a monster?"

"Black, semi liquid. Horrifying. We lost it, and then Gertrude and I saw the light and thought we'd take a look. Do you know anything?"

At that moment, the tent flap parts, and the subordinate returns. He is followed by a tall man dressed in an expensive looking tan felt coat. He has a thin face framed by long coppery hair, pulled into a tight ponytail. He looks more like a model than a member of a military branch. At once I realise that he reminds me of someone, though I can't for the life of me think who.

"Commander Red Owl requests your audience, Sir!"

The tall man steps forward holding out his hand. He smiles a thin, toothy smile. There is something peculiar about it.

"Doctor, to whom do I owe the pleasure?" He says with genuine warmth as he takes the Time Lord's bony hand. His golden eyes fall on my face, and they flash with recognition. I feel the blood drain from my face.

How can he know me?

"My God...no way!" He laughs then, a thin, wheezy laugh of amazement. Suddenly I am aware that all figures in the tent are looking at me. The Doctor is among them, a look of mild panic creeping across his face.

"Are you...Eliza Birchwood? The Dalek Girl? With the dress, I barely recognised you!"

Washington. My promotion. Of course.

My cover is blown already, so I laugh. Drop back into my normal voice.

"Really Doc? Did you think the disguise would work?"

The laughing man has me by the hand now, and pumps it vigorously. I feel shaken to my core, and wonder what to do next.

"Miss Birchwood, I'm Paul Weiss. It's such a pleasure to meet you; and so soon! They said you were good, but I didn't think you'd bring us the Doctor!"

"You'd do what?" The Doctor murmurs. I glance back at him. We'll have to improvise. Do our best.

"What can I say? I'm named after his greatest enemy, aren't I?"

The model of a man opens his arms, stares around.

"I like this girl!" He says. "She knows her stuff! Here; I assume you'll know all about the Leech from this guy? We'd better exchange notes."

Behind me, I notice that the guards close around the Doctor. I feel myself stiffen.

"Now hold on..." The Time Lord protests.

"Hey, hey, hey!" I laugh, try to keep my voice light. "What...what's going on here?"

The tall man, Red Owl they called him, looks solemn. And with that frown, I remember the woman with the cotton coat and the sharp nails. White Owl, Sec called her.

Oh no.

"Just precautions, Ma'am. Knowing this guy's record, we don't think he'll agree to our methods."

I shake my head. The white ribbon on my hat bobs.

"No, no! No need for that. I er...I have control over his TARDIS. He'll do anything I say."

"Traitor!" The Doctor snarls, and he sounds like he means it.

Red Owl smiles his strange smile, looks impressed.

"Very good. Coyote, if you'll lead the way."

The Doctor keeps his head bowed as we are marched through the complex. He doesn't meet my gaze. I'm afraid. What do they want with him? And for how long can I play it cool; pretend I dragged him in here.

All the while, Red Owl is talking, saying how Vice must have briefed me before sending me out here, how amazing it was that I was able to lure the Doctor. I agree, and embroider parts of the story where necessary, hoping that I can remember details for later.

As we are led deeper into the camp, I notice that many of the personnel are wearing protective suits. There are surgeon style masks, heavy goggles. And the vicinity, for a place literally pitched in a dirty hole, they have been keeping it very clean.

"We wondered if anything could be made of this;" Red Owl goes on, "the semi liquid creature was first sighted a week ago, and observed as it neared the town of San Martinez, or Martin as the locals call it. Well, we noticed spikes in it's energy at random points during the day."

"What happened?"

"It would become fully liquid; like a river, but able to climb slopes. It would gather speed, and then slow. There was no discernable pattern."

He stops outside the first solid structure in the camp. It is a prefab made of ridged metal panels bolted together. The guards let us pass at once. They are all dressed in plastic overalls. We step into an unpleasant, clinical space. The walls have been whitewashed; the floor is made of studded steel tiles, and spring a little as we step on them.

"I'm guessing you did find a pattern in the end." The Doctor speaks for the first time during the tour. "Why else would you lead us into a sinister, TCP-soaked missile base?"

Red Owl laughs.

"I like your description, Doctor. And you're right. We did."

I peer around a doorway as we pass, and see a room lined with trolleys and medical equipment. I'm reminded of both the Columbia Facility and the Cult of Skaro's lab back in New York, and shudder.

Red Owl leads us to a sliding door, and after the sentry unlocks the door, he pushes it open.

The space behind it is large; true to the Doctor's description. It looks like a temporary weapon testing zone, such is it's size.

But instead, in the centre of the floor, there is a camp bed, and two figures in white coats crouch by the small person who sits on it's edge. She looks up. I see a small, tanned face, framed by dark bangs. She wears a military style coat with badges pinned to the pockets. She is clutching her wrists, and blanches as we come into view.

It's her.

"What is this supposed to be?" The Doctor murmurs. "Why do you want her?"

"We think young Reece here is the key to our problem." Smiles Red Owl.

Reece Darcy looks away from us, bites her lip.

Sec has pulled us into a bigger mess than any of us could have known.


	17. The 19th

By Davros, I hope that they are alright.

I saw them meet with the convoy. There was laughter. Eliza and the Doctor, ant-like in distance, were led towards the glowing camp, surrounded by the halo of guards.

I've set my weapon to stun. I have dimmed the light of my eyestalk.

Now all I can do is wait.

For a while, I can only watch from over the outcrop. But I cannot risk being spotted, so I find better cover in the larger rocks.

I become nervous.

For a while, I carve patterns into the rocks with my weapon. Then I drive in little circled, getting gradually wider and more disorientated. I stop before I become dizzy.

When something slinks out from behind the rocks I turn frantically, ready to fire. It is only a coyote. It eyes me suspiciously, then saunters closer. It sniffs around the base of my skirt section, and then lifts its leg.

If I were to kill or startle it, my cover will be blown. It slinks off, leaving a river of piss to collect around my hemis, and drip into the dirt. I really have stooped low. The Prittchards are right. I _am_ a sissy. But at least the story will make Eliza laugh. She's a smart woman. I hope she sends the signal soon.

The sound of an engine cuts through the night. It comes from behind me. I rotated my dome. Strange. I recognise the sound. A puttering warble; aged and in much need of repair.

I glide behind one of the larger rocks. It is tall enough to provide cover. I peer round the edge with my eyestalk.

A white pick-up truck struggles up the ravaged slope.

It belongs to the Prittchards. Speak of the devil.

What the hell are they doing out here?

I focus in with my eyestalk.

One of the twins sits behind the wheel; Walter by my recollection. His face is clouded over with submission. There are four other figures in the truck with him.

And in the passenger seat…

White Owl leans back, looking a little bored, a shotgun held steadily, aimed at Walter's head.

They escaped.

If they arrive…

In a moment, I am in the air. The light of my elevation globes are hidden by the outcrop. I set my weapon to a higher setting, and fire.

A blue bolt of energy lights up the desert, and hits the back tire. The vehicle jolts, then swerves, tires screeching. The left front wheel, already bald from my recollection, bursts as the rocks tear it open. I can only watch as, with a thunderous crash, the truck tumbles onto its side in a cacophony of breaking glass. Something dark rolls, putty-like into the darkness.

I glide down, no need to hide. But the right door bursts open, is thrust into the air.

White Owl has a cut on her head. Blood runs down her white face, obscuring her left eye. Her remaining one flashes with fury.

"Stay where you are." I demand. I drift above her, scanning for life. I see Jock peer up, dazed and bruised. His brother in unconscious, but alive.

"Sec!" Jock shouts. "She's got the Monster! You gotta catch it, quick."

White Owl turns faster than I can comprehend. I'm too slow.

The bang of the shotgun cracks through the desert like thunder.

The woman's face is speckled with foreign blood. As is the broken windscreen. Her coat. When she looks up again, there is a hint of glee in her eyes. A challenge.

 _I killed the boy_.

 _Your move, Dalek_.

The pain rips through me. The woman is wrenched from the upturned vehicle. My plunger is gripped around her neck. Drop her, spluttering and rolling onto the dirt, and trap her leg under my armour.

"I will exterminate you!" My voice is monstrous, mad, and too loud for the silence of the desert.

"Didn't like that, eh? Well do it!" White Owl yells. "Do it, and his brother dies too!"

I extend my plunger, crush it against her throat.

"Murderer!"

The woman coughs, her gold eyes cloud with air-robbed tears. The plunger almost covers her face now.

"Just like you." She gurgles.

I stop at once.

I can't…

I release her.

She sits up, body shuddering with gasps for air and revolting, hacking chokes.

I am a coward.

Her two subordinates have scrambled out of the vehicle. The one named Wolf remains. He holds the shotgun to Walter's temple. White Owl rubs her neck.

"Don't worry about the specimen, Sec." She says mockingly. "We dosed it with enough carfetanil to kill a Roman legion. It's alive still. My men will take it back. And then, perhaps, you'll oblige us with your expertise."

I could raise my weapon then. Blast Wolf into atoms. I could pretend I don't care.

But in the seat of the car, whatever is left of Jock Prittchard lies dead.

I am the lame Dalek.

Stinging panic flushes through me. I remember it then. A human. Me, but not me. Everywhere there is mud, and a lifeless shape that lies only a few feet away, body torn by bullets.

White Owl smiles, and the lights of three military trucks illuminate the scene.

Reece Darcey looks from me to the Doctor, her face as puzzled as it is afraid. It must be our bizarre dress. We don't look like researchers or soldiers.

Red Owl crouches to her level. He still towers over her, even when squatting on his knees.

"Miss Darcey; this is Eliza Birchwood and her most interesting friend, the Doctor. I was hoping they'd be able to help us solve your little problem."

Reece swallows. God bless, she must be so terrified.

"I…I don't have a problem." She mutters. She sounds exactly like a stubborn teen refusing a chore. Red Owl laughs.

The Doctors eyes have a strange, furious light to them. He glares at Red Owl like a hawk sizing up a rival.

"This little tyke kept trying to escape from us!" Red Owl goes on. Then he grabs the girl's wrist. Reece flinches, looks away. I fill with shock. "We we're able to put a stop to it."

He tilts her wrist towards us. There is a thick silver band around it; like a bangle, but fitted close to the skin. It is broken by a line of dark plastic, and occasionally, a red LED flashes.

Reece struggles uncomfortably. I notice, with a flush of rage, that there are red marks around the band.

The Doctor lunges forward and wrenches Red Owls arm away. Reece drops her arm.

"You're hurting her." The Doctor's voice is dangerously quiet. Red Owl stares at him with surprise, apparently oblivious to his actions. Reece's face is red and embarrassed.

A guard steps forward to restrain the Time Lord.

"No, hey, leave him!" I bark. "Mister Red Owl – er – Paul; the Doctor's right. Why the hell are you keeping her here? She's a kid!" I catch her eye, and she warms with gratitude. But Red Owl laughs.

"You think so? Not after you've seen what she's capable of. Look; nobody likes to do it, but she can help us. Besides, such are the nature of her abilities, that she's been putting the whole of San Martinez in jeopardy."

"How so? With her powers?" I challenge. "You think she's been attracting the monster?"

"No; we _know_ she has! That device we put on her inhibits her abilities. You should see the energy spikes it lets off every time she tries to escape. How about you show them, kid?"

The young girl squirms. I notice that the wristband is flashing, with more and more frequency.

"Once we catch the specimen; we'll test to see what happens if we put the two of them together."

"Why?" The Doctor's hands stand as pale fists against his dark jacket. "Whatever will you achieve by doing that?"

Red Owl hesitates.

"Well, Doctor Sir, we're not asking for your approval. We just want your cooperation. And if Miss Eliza here oversees the operations-"

"She won't." I spit. "This is wrong. If you were doing this for research; to help people, I'd get it. But pointlessly taking children, putting them in danger; that's not going to help anyone!"

"It will help our people!" Red Owl raises his voice, and it sounds almost manic. And at that moment, a soldier bangs loudly on the door.

"Mister Red Owl, Sir! We have a situation. Your sister's returned, Sir."

The copper haired man straightens up, his face a little red. He looks flustered, looks back at me with an ugly look.

"Very well. Someone escort the Doctor to a secure premise. Miss Birchwood; I will return. I hope you'll change your mind."

He leaves, followed by his guards, and smooths a strand of his long hair behind his ear. The Doctor in turn is held in an arm lock, struggling minimally. Now what?

"Eliza!" He calls. "For the love of sanity, _think about this_!"

I watch helpless as the door closes behind him.

Now it's only me, the girl, and a guard.

I turn to her. She cowers, her head hunched by her green khaki shoulders. Sec knows this girl. She doesn't look dangerous. She is afraid, and it hurts my heart. I remove my hat, the woven rim catching a little in my hair.

"Hey," I say as softly as I can, "You're Reece? My friend; he's told me all about you. I…I like your shoes."

Reece drops her guard a little, and looks down at her converses.

"Thank you."

"Frank and Jake, right."

"Oh." The girl's face rises into a half smile. "I see you have an approximate knowledge of many things." She smiles, and when I look confused, it falls. "It's Finn and Jake, actually. I like your dress."

Finally, somebody!

"I'd love to have a dress like that." She murmurs. "Do you go to comic con?"

"No, never, yet. You like aliens, right?"

Reece doesn't seem to get what I'm saying. She eyes me warily.

"Yeah. They're cool. The ones that don't kill you, I mean."

I try to keep my head. I look back at the singular guard. He is watching us intently. It's very disturbing. I know that the two researchers wait outside the door. My mouth is dry. How can I do this?

I lean forward.

"I'm friends with one." I tell her. "Two, as a matter of fact. I think one of them is a…mutual friend."

Reece sits up. Her dark eyes flicker behind her glasses. I raise a hand to my lips, almost as if to tell her to be quiet.

"He can fly. He tackles monsters. He likes tartan. He's usually pretty grumpy, but, on the inside, he's kind of soft."

And Reece's face lights up. She knows.

"S…" But she glances at the guard. The man in question joins in.

"Are you talking about the Doctor?" He asks suspiciously. "How can he fly?"

I smile indulgently. I hold my hat in my hands.

"Well, a bit like this, Sir." I say.

And then I do the only think I could think of. I throw it into his face.

He grabs at it, bewildered and wrestles it off. I'm a second faster.

I punch him in the face. He falls back. Reece leaps up, alarmed.

"The band!" I say.

The guard struggles, he's angry now. But Reece, inexpertly, leaps forward, and crashes her wrist into his head.

He's out.

The teenager looks up at me, pushing her fringe out of her face.

"Wh-why did we do that?" She asks. "Who are you?"

I take her by the shoulders.

"Reece, we have no time! You need to take that thing off."

"I can't! It's got a lock; I've tried! It hurts: I tried to run away-"

But I crouch down, searching the guard. Pull out a set of keys.

"Any one of these?"

"I don't…wait. Yes! That one!"

I take the tiniest key, a little silver one and take Reece's wrist, inserting it into the keyhole. As it springs open, Reece winces.

"What's up?" I ask.

"They…"

She lifts it so I can see. My stomach turns in revulsion.

A pin either side of her arm holds the band in place. It has been pushed into the flesh, and now disturbed, the marks begin to bleed.

"The bastards." I curse.

"It'll hurt."

"Look; I'll help you. You'll have to brace yourself. Be brave, okay."

The guard is stirring. Does the Doctor still have his sonic probe? Can he call Sec in time?

I take the ugly device and prize it open, gently as I can. Reece shuts her eyes, grimacing. The pins are torturously deep, but at last they slip out. I drop the wristband onto the floor. The girl lets out the tiniest sob.

"There; we'll bandage that up later. But we're gonna have to run-"

But Reece shakes her teary head. Takes a step back. I feel a prickle of panic.

"Reece, we're running out of time!" I hiss. And then I stop.

Reece has run over to the wall, and places her ear against it, as if listening.

The guard groans. Is this girl crazy?

She pushes the solid metal wall.

As she does so, it ripples like a curtain.

Sunlight streams across the floor.

My mouth hangs open. It is exactly as if she has found a secret passage.

"Come on!" Reece cries.

"But-"

I turn in time to see the guard turn on the floor.

"GET IN HERE! She's escaping."

Fear beats common sense.

I leap over the folding bed, to reach Reece.

The door his hauled open, and three armed guards appear.

Reece grabs my wrist and struggles through the tiny gap she has created. I duck under, blinking in the new sunlight. My hands feel a cold, smooth surface.

I turn, and the patch of air that a moment ago revealed a man's hand, ready to pull us back, is covered by grey stones.

I hear Reece breathing hard. She has drawn her knees up to her chest. Buries her eyes in them.

I can only stare.

"…What did you just do?"

She shakes her short brown bob.

"I just…I did what I always do. I Ran Away." She places a strange emphasis on the last two words.

I've been dragged through a porthole.

This seems to happen to me a lot.

I struggle to my feet, noting how every sound echoes. The silence is oppressive.

There is an unusual pinkish quality to the light. I look up, and see a grey pillar, thick as a giant redwood trunk, rising into the yellow sky. I stumble backward.

"Reece," I stammer, "Reece, where is this place?"

The young girl raises her head. It is tearstained, but her eyes survey our surroundings with fondness.

"It's my hiding place." She tells me. "It's where I go all the time. The Cathedrals…"

I stare at what I presumed was the jagged horizon of the New Mexico desert. It is nothing of the sort.

It is a horizon made from the thousands and thousands of gothic spires that vanish into infinity.


	18. The 20th

They place the Leech onto a tarpaulin and drive it into the camp. She has not stirred from the fall. Walter comes round as he is pulled from the front seat. His shoulder has to be thrust back into its socket. He is disorientated, and talks very fast, alarmed at the guns trained on him and the blood that has soaked into his clothes.

"Where's Jock?" He gabbles. "Where's my brother? Sec; what have they done to Jock?"

They march him alongside me, Disabling cannons aimed at my grill. I stare at the ground.

"Sec?" Walter begs.

I can't guarantee that the grief won't make him hysteric. That they won't kill him too. I have no choice but to stay silent. White Owl marches alongside me, like a hunter willing to show off her catch.

By the time we arrive in the camp, Walter has slipped out of consciousness. He is dragged away into one of the tents, and all weapons remain trained on me. We are in a square among the tents, a floodlight whitewashing the frozen ground.

A tall figure approaches, followed by a group of guards. Between two of whom, a figure is being pinioned by both arms. The Doctor.

As he sees me, his eyes widen with alarm.

The tall figure has the same thin face, same expensive taste in clothing as the woman who stands beside me.

"Dalek Sec has been captured then." He remarks. "And the specimen? Well done Sis; it appears we have the full set. Not without trouble?"

White Owl brushes a strand of hair out of her eyes. She seems annoyed at her twin's use of address. She points, breathing heavily, at the Doctor.

"He's was with the Dalek. The old man. He, er…he hindered our progress at the Devil's Crown."

The tall man frowns, turns to the Doctor, who smiles ironically.

"…The Doctor helping a Dalek! Have you lost your mind?" He chortles, his voice high pitched and wheezy. White Owl blanches.

"What?!"

"Well, I'm not _with_ him exactly." The Doctor reasons. "I don't agree with most things he does. But yes; I am said Time Lord. And I have cramp in my arm."

White Owl narrows her eyes at him. I look straight at him, unable to give any signal. Hoping he'll understand.

 _Is Eliza safe?_

"But why…why on earth would you ever _help_ one another?"

"We wanted the girl. That is all." I say.

"The Darcey girl? No, I don't think so. She…" The tall man pauses. He frowns. He turns to the Doctor. "The Birchwood woman. Is she with you too?"

Neither of us speak.

The Doctor's breath rises in clouds. He is noble enough to stay silent.

And then there is the crunching of feet on the gravel.

"Mister Red Owl, Sir! The prisoner has escaped. The Dalek Girl…"

The relief is incredible.

Reece is free. Eliza is free.

I do not know how.

I hope that they will be cunning.

"Not again; no! Search the camp! And the mountain!"

But the guard, his face cut and bloody shakes his head.

"They're gone, Sir. The girl made a window…"

I do not hear the end of the conversation as the Doctor and I are dragged away. He catches my eye one final time.

 _What about us?_

The room is incredibly bright.

"The mutant first." White Owl suggests. "The Time Lord is more valuable."

"It's insane." The Doctor is fighting against them with all of his strength. "Don't do this; it won't achieve anything!"

"Well; the girl's gone. And neither you nor the mutant are offering their services. If you are so precious to one another, then one of you will cooperate eventually."

"You're cowards!" He snarls.

White Owl looks him straight into the eye.

"That things no Dalek. There's nothing to prove."

"He's the cleverest one there's ever been! He changed! You can't do this. SEC!" The door slams, blocking the Doctor and White Owl from view.

They threatened to kill him with as many bullets as it would take if I did not relinquish my armour, and the remaining Prittchard twin. They disable the Mach III with the cannon and drag it from the room. I hear strangled sobs from beyond. This must be where they were doing their testing. It makes sense that they would have medical equipment.

I'm sorry Walter.

Red Owl sits behind a folding desk. His eyes, as golden as his sibling's, stare at me with a contemptful fascination.

 _A window? So that was Reece's ability. She can travel between dimensions. Whatever happens, they'll be safe._

The handcuffs dig into my wrists. My ankles have been strapped to the legs of the metal framed chair.

I am too weary to be afraid. I can hold out. So can the Time Lord.

Red Owl stands, scraping his chair, and walks closer. He makes a circuit around the chair, and then stops in front of me.

"So it's true." He says. "You're not really a Dalek. I have to admit, I am kind of disappointed."

I avoid his gaze.

"Then you are more of one. You and your bitch of a sister."

He snorts.

"I knew a human like you once." I say. "He was honoured to work with us. To betray hundreds of his kind to share the illusion of our power. He got what he wanted in the end."

Red Owl raises his eyebrows.

"And?"

My chest shakes as the air goes into my lungs. I can't seem to breathe properly.

"You're talking to him. I transgenically bonded with Leroy Yrgos Diagoras, creating the half human hybrid you see before you. The Doctor is right. You won't achieve anything through this. I've put myself through enough pain."

"Sir, we have the tools you asked for."

The door has reopened, and a researcher appears, pushing a laboratory trolley. There is a tangle of wires, a set of bottles in a tray with a syringe, and on top, a black plastic box with a handle.

A car battery.

The researcher is trying not to look at me as Red Owl examines the selection.

 _Eliza will return_.

"I don't know." Red Owl goes on. He appears to have made his choice. "The Doctor seems to care enough. He may give in. If not, consider it karma. You hurt a lot of people, Dalek Sec. You and the human you stole."

 _Eliza won't return._

 _But she is safe._

 _And the Doctor?_

 _Will another dead Dalek, even half of one, really trouble him so much?_

My vision blurs. A pain, sharper and more intense than any migraine pulses through me. Something is being pressed into my brain. Red Owl straightens, then pulls the trolley closer. Attaches the trailing wires to the terminals of the black box.

The weariness is gone.

All of my body aches with fear.

But I have tortured too.

I deserve this.

The first scream breaks across the stagnant, freezing air. It's too late. The Doctor leaps to his feet, where moments ago he was leaning against the cell-like room's wall. White Owl grins at him.

"You've got me. I've changed my mind. I'll do whatever you want with the Leech. I'll make it into a weapon. But please, don't do this."

The screams have died down; there is only silence now. It is broken by something tiny. A voice that could have been Sec's once, but is so quiet, so pitiful.

"Just a little longer." Says White Owl. "You have to hear your enemies suffer."

They pin him to the wall to prevent him from lashing out as the second scream cuts through the air.


	19. The 21st

When, eight years ago, I was pulled unceremoniously from my own world onto the savage plains of Skaro, I felt less amazement than I do now.

I gaze at the rising gothic pillars, out into the roofless sky. I am reminded of Europe; photographs of Cologne and Paris; the arched windows and flying buttresses. But this place is ancient; and cannot possibly exist on earth. The scale is baffling; as if built by giants. The uneven flagstones, which are smoother than sea-washed stone, each have an area that would easily dwarf my three-room apartment and would have been impossible to lift.

Reece doesn't seem even slightly unnerved. She gets steadily to her feet, and smiles a shy, uncertain smile.

"Do you like it?" She asks shyly.

"Like it…? Well, that's hardly the question…" I pace around, past the enormous pillar, and into the naval of the building. The centre of the cathedral is as large as a playing field, and covered in a layer of smooth snow. It can only be another world. There is no sound; no wind, no birds. An ancient, abandoned world.

"How long have you been able to come here?"

Reece shrugs.

"Since I was around ten, I guess." She places a hand on the weathered pillar. "I was being chased by some boys in middle school. I hid in the toilets, but they said they didn't care; they'd go in anyway. So I ran into one of the cubicles and I…came out here. Just like Narnia. 'Cept it's only me here. I've never seen another living soul."

"Just like Narnia." Yes. All we need now is a Lion and a lamppost. I rub my arms. It is much, much colder than New Mexico. And the odd hue of the sky makes me feel nervous; like a perpetual sunrise. Either that, or it really is only the morning.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Reece asks. "It never even gets dark or anything. It's hardly ever snowy though. Sometimes I've felt like I can stay here forever; but my Mom and Dad would worry. And it gets kind of quiet. But now you're here I guess. And you seem cool. I've often wanted to take someone else here."

I turn round to face her.

"Reece; I'll admit that this is incredible; but I can't stay here. I've got to go back. My friends are back in the camp. They've got the Doctor, and I don't know what's happening with Sec, the Dalek I mean. I can't leave them!"

Reece's round, fortunately clear face creases into a frown.

"Why? Those people; they're insane! They kept hurting me, and they want to build weapons."

"Build them?"

"Uhu. That's why they said they wanted Dalek Sec. He knows how to create them."

Interesting.

Her wrist is smeared with blood; dark red drops seep from the two cuts. I sigh, and tear a strip from my petticoat, a part that wasn't trailing near the ground.

"Come here, let me bandage that up."

Reece watches pensively as I bind the wound. She really is a stubborn teen; little more. She could be pretty, even beautiful if she wore make-up. But when I measure it up to my teen years, I know that too much can be a bad idea. Trying and failing to be a Goth in the 90's was a strange situation. Teenage Eliza would have loved a place like this.

But Reece, by her style of dress; a little nerdy but otherwise pretty pedestrian, shows her as a girl who would rather not be noticed. It could be a lack of money.

"What is Sec like?" She asks suddenly. "You said he's your friend."

I look up.

"He's grumpy as hell. Unpredictable. Dangerous. Largely…well, alien. But he's kind, too. He cares. That's why we were friends. Why do you want to know?" I mull over my thought carefully.

"You don't… _like_ him, do you? He's ugly as sin!"

Reece goes pink.

"What? Ugh, no! Not like that! Well…I don't know…" She peers at me from under her bangs. "Not exactly anyway."

I continue wrapping the makeshift bandage around her arm, listening. Reece shuffles her foot.

"Well, it's more like, I want to be around him because I think something exciting will happen."

" _This_ is pretty exciting. Being able to do this."

"Not really. This is really normal for me. I mean like, I'd have adventures. I'd meet more aliens. And because he's so…well…different. It's stupid."

"No." I say. I tie a knot in the bandage. "I've never told anyone this, but I used to have a crush on the Great Gonzo when I was a teen. And my math teacher."

Reece giggles despite herself.

"Okay; that's even weirder."

I grin, blushing quite hard.

"Can you get back to the real…I mean, normal world as easily?" I ask.

"Yeah. I never come out at the same place I came through, though." She explains. "Last time I escaped from high school and reappeared in the middle of the main street. Takes ten minutes to walk."

"That would hardly be a problem."

I walk back into the centre of the cathedral, and feel the snow crunch with its unmistakable scrunching squeak under my feet. The scent; of fresh air, and of mould; moisture trapped in stone is all I can smell.

"I need a plan." I tell her. "Perhaps you can stay in this world, and let me back into this one when…but I suppose I wouldn't know where your new window would open."

"It is pretty random. Sorry. I used to try and work it out, but I'd always come out in the middle of the desert or something."

"Okay then. I'd have to hope that the Doctor managed to signal Sec. Those people will know we're both missing. If he can cause enough chaos, then the Doctor should escape. I have my phone, but…"

My eye falls on the snowy ground and I stop, dead. I feel a creeping sensation wriggle up my spine. I've been pacing in circles, leaving the footprints of my work shoes in a frozen trail. But about seven feet away…

"Reece, come here a second." I call. Looking confused, Reece saunters over. I beckon urgently, and she falls into a quick jog. Once she's next to me, I point at a patch along the silent isle from us.

"Didn't you say that you've never seen another living thing when you've come here?"

"Well; I once thought about ditching one of the popular girls here, but…"

"Whose are those footprints? Are they…yours?"

Two bare feet. Spaced evenly apart. I can make out the individual digits. No trail leads to them and they stand alone. Reece is wearing her sneakers. They can't be hers.

"How did they get _there_?" Her voice has dropped to a whisper. Even so, it echoes in a creeping susurrus around the vaulted walls.

There is a soft rustling sound.

"I don't wish to alarm you." I say, keeping my voice equally quiet. "But I don't think we're alone."

Reece shakes her head furiously. She is keeping very close to me and I can feel her warmth.

"I've never seen anyone here! It's like it was abandoned. I walked to another cathedral once. Everything's dead. I mean, sometimes I mistake the statues for living things, but other than that-"

Another rustle. It reminds me of the shaking of feathers.

A tiny cascade of snow drops in a scattered shower from a ledge.

"I can't see any statues." I whisper. "This place is bare."

"There are bishops and saints and things over by the entrance. They've all worn away. But there are angels too. Some of them look as if they were finished yesterday."

"Like that one?" I ask.

"No; none here. Near the…"

But she trails off.

It stands where Reece stood only a moment ago. Long stone wings that trail down to the ground. Lichen spotted Greek robe. Stone face staring right at us, with smooth empty eyes. An angel. Appeared, apparently, from thin air.

Reece breathes in sharply.

The space between us and the apparition is incredibly slight.

"I'm guessing this hasn't happened before." I ask. Reece's eyes are glued to the stone figure, as if she fears that looking away would mean certain death.

"There were noises, sometimes." She whispers. Her lips barely move, and I only just hear any sound. "Like the rustling. But I never…" She swallows. "It's a statue, how could it – ahh!"

"Jesus." I hiss.

It is as quick as a light switching off, leaving a room dark. The angel has vanished. It leaves only a patch in the snow.

"Where is it?" Reece squeaks. "Where is it? I can't see it anywhere!"

"There! Above that arch."

Several feet above the ground now; where once a stained glass window will have shined its light over the congregation, a winged figure stands motionless; a silhouette against the rose-hue sky. Something stirs in the back of my mind.

"2012. Year of the London Olympics. There was a…case. Back in New York. It didn't come to anything in the end, so I didn't think much of it. People kept reporting seeing statues move. I remember taking a look; but I didn't find anything out of the ordinary."

My eyes run over every detail of our surroundings now; the open sky, the pulpit, down the aisle towards the doors.

"There were a couple of missing persons, too." I go on. The details fit into place now. "There always are. But, perhaps-"

"No!" Reece cries. I turn and see it at once. Another stone figure, standing at an irregular angle to the architecture five pillars away. I glance back at the window, and almost expect it when I see the figure has gone.

"We need to get out of here." I say. "Reece; you take us back!"

"But what if they catch us? The people, I mean?"

"As soon as we see where we are, we run, okay?"

There is another rustle, a clack of stone against stone. Reece makes a dive for the nearest pillar.

"What are you doing?" I turn to see that the angel by the pillar has vanished. It now stands in the aisle, illuminated by the sky.

"It's not so easy! You have to _search_ for windows! They are like loose bricks; doorways! Cupboards!"

I have decided, out of fear more than anything else, not to let the angel out of my sight. My eyes begin to water.

"Here!"

I hear a grating sound. The angel stands, almost perfectly symmetrical, wingtips held high above its head. Its small, berry mouth is curved into an archaic smile; like the kouros in the Metropolitan Museum. That strange wistful smile used to look odd to me.

Now it looks almost hungry.

"Hurry!" Reece shouts. I don't need any encouragement. Keeping my eyes glued to the figure, I edge backwards to where Reece is. She has pushed away a brick, revealing a gap. Darkness glitters beyond it. She crawls through the gap.

I turn one last time, only to come face to face with a solid stone face.

I dive backwards. Hurl myself through the gap, into the night. And I hear a horrible rushing, like crumbling rock. Clattering, crumbling, closer.

 _Closer!_

The square of day vanishes as soon as I pull my leg through, and we are slammed into pitch darkness.

The air has less of a chill.

I have grazed my hand on the rough surface underneath me. Asphalt.

And the only sound I can hear is the sound of Reece's breathing.

The camp is nowhere to be seen.

"That…has never happened before…" Reece repeats. She takes in deep, gulping breaths, and I realise that I'm doing the same.

"I can believe that." I reach out and tap her on the shoulder. "Well done. Whatever those things were, we could have been done for."

"I'm not going back." Reece swears. "Not if you paid me a million dollars."

My eyes have adjusted to the darkness. The sky is littered with stars; some in clusters. I see the Milky Way. The ground is flat. Wherever we are, we are nowhere near Sec or the Doctor. I need to get back. Reece should be safe now. Or I'll find her somewhere to wait.

A light glistens in the distance. It is growing larger.

We have fallen onto a road.

I pull Reece to her feet, and we step off onto the dirt.

"There aren't any mountain lions out here?" I ask. She lets out a dark cough of a laugh.

"I'd take on a thousand mountain lions after that!"

"To be fair…"

I will have to stop the driver. See if I can find out where we are. The horrific image of the carved face is imbedded into my memory.

What if the vehicle is from the camp?

"Perhaps we ought to hide?" Reece suggests, as if reading my thoughts.

We run out further into the plain. We'll have to lie close to the ground. There can't be much traffic out here at this time of night. I glance behind me before we drop. They are driving fast; no torch flashes in our direction. It is a pick-up truck. The cabin is lit, and I spot the face of the figure in the passenger seat.

At once I'm running back towards the road.

"Where are you going?"

"Wait there; it's okay!" I call back to her. I charge into the middle of the road, waving my arms. Begin to shout.

The vehicle screeches to a halt twenty feet away.

The right door swings open, and a broad-shouldered, heavy set figure lumbers out. They pause, and then start towards me. Their limbs clank and hiss as they approach.

I break into a run, meeting them half way.

"It's me! Listen; I don't know how close you are, but there's kind of an emergency and I need-"

I never finish as a metal palm smashes into my face. Suddenly I'm lying on the road, dazed and stinging.

"…Ouch."

"YOU HUSSY!" Mama Prittchard howls in a modulated voice. "MY BOYS WENT RUNNING AFTER YOU AND HAVEN'T BEEN BACK SINCE!"

"I had no idea!" I protest. I can taste blood. I wonder if all my teeth remain.

There is a shriek; and at first I think it is a bird of some sort. But then Mama Prittchard turns as Reece charges out of the darkness.

"Leave her alone you bitch!" She yells. She kicks the Cyberwoman in the shin, only to hop backwards yelling. Mama Prittchard grabs her by the scruff of the neck and inspects her with hollow eyes.

"Now hold on dear!" The driver has leaped out. He is a short man with a scrubby beard who I don't recognise. "That there's ole Darcey's kid! What's she doin' out here in the middle of the night?"

A hand takes mine, and I am helped to my feet by the tallest of the sons. I nod in thanks, and he smiles toothlessly at me.

The Cyberwoman lets Reece drop back onto the asphalt.

"WHERE IS YOUR GRANDFATHER?" She demands.

"He's not my grandfather. Mrs Prittchard, I swear on my Dad's life that I haven't seen your sons; but I need your help. He and my friend Sec are in trouble, and I need to get to them as soon as possible."

"They've got that creature. The black one you were fighting in Martin." Reece elaborates. She is met by an empty stare that seems to glare.

"AND WHY SHOULD WE HELP YOU?" Mama Prittchard demands.

"Because…because…"

But Reece surprises me.

"Because they kidnapped me. They're with the government!" She smiles sheepishly. "You're the Prittchards, aren't you? Everyone knows about you. And these are probably the same people who want to stop your…business."

The two sons who have been travelling look at one another.

"Those good-for-nothing bastards!" One of them sneers. "Taking a girl! Think they can walk over us honest folk! I'd like to lay into them anyhow!"

"Mind your language Junior!" The older man protests.

"Oh can we, Ma, can we? Pa?"

All eyes are turned to the woman cased in steel. Her head is bowed, as if in thought. Her chin almost touches the "C" shaped logo on her chest.

"Well, Old Sec _has_ leant us a hand with that monster, dear." The older man scratches his beard.

Mama Prittchard is silent. Then she nods.

"YOU AND THE GIRL; GET IN THE CAR. AUGUST, JUNIOR, GET READY."

"Wait!" I protest as we're guided towards the trough. "They're heavily armed! You could get yourselves killed!"

"Naw, don't you worry about that, Ma'am." The toothless brother whistles. He opens the back and I wince at the amount of fire-arms that have been loaded into it. "We come prepared whenever we can!"

"They're dealers." Reece explains, as if I couldn't have guessed. "Most of the guys at school are paying them weekly. They hate any form of authority."

I see Mama Prittchard take out an old flip phone from her apron pocket.

"IF THERE IS ONE THING SECRET ORGANISATIONS DISLIKE, IT IS PUBLICITY. HELLO? IS THIS THE COMMISSIONER? YES, I WOULD LIKE TO REMIND YOU OF A FAVOUR..."


	20. The 22nd and 23rd

"The screaming has stopped." Jackal remarks to his comrade.

His comrade Fox grimaces.

"Thank God for that."

"D'you reckon they killed him then?"

"Perhaps. It would be a waste, though."

They have been placed on lookout duty; a miserable post at the mercy of the elements. Jackal is dressed in a balaclava, a thick pair of gloves, a Kevlar vest, and two layers of thermal underwear. But standing still in the still, freezing air, the cold seeps into his extremities, making them numb and icy. He doesn't know how to feel about the Dalek. It would have felt wrong to hurt it anyway. But he saw what was inside. Not a Dalek. Almost a man, walking. Reasoning. It's blue eye looked too human somehow. And he and his friends helped the girl escape.

It is the Doctor that concerns him more. He knew that the old man had something more to him from the punch he packed at the Devil's Crown. The Doctor is good. The Doctor is his friend.

He remembers how quickly White Owl pulled the trigger on the young man after the truck overturned. He breathes out slowly.

"Hey Soldier; do you hear that?"

"More screaming?"

"No; listen."

In the distance, there is a thrumming, chopping echo. Jackal squints. The horseshoe of rock that surrounds the plateau ends at twelve o'clock, showing the black expanse of the plains and the mountains beyond. The stars stretch out above them.

A little flashing light is gliding through the sky. A helicopter.

Fox scrambles for his binoculars. Raises them to his eyes.

"It's a News helicopter..." He remarks. "What the hell is it doing out here?"

"Maybe a man was shot." Jackal suggests stonily.

"It's coming closer. I thought we had a no-fly zone imposed!"

"What's that?"

At the edge of the rock, something moves. A head, leaning out. Jackal switches on his flashlight, points the beam at the figure. He blinks as it is reflected back. Metal.

A flash.

In an instant, he is slammed to the ground as the gunfire rattles overhead.

"We're under attack!" Splutters Jackal.

"No shit; fire back!"

He fumbles with his pistol, turns off the safety. His aim is good, but the cold and the surprise have caught him at a disadvantage.

They fire again and again at the approaching figure, and the bullets spark uselessly as they strike the shining hide of their attacker. It's movements are menacing; familiar. It is only about fifty feet away, and it breaks into a charge.

"A Cyberman...I thought they all flew into the sky and exploded!"

"Apparently not; we have company!"

Reinforcements are piling out from the tents and their posts. There are too few, as many were sent to search for the Darcey girl and the woman in the bizarre dress. It is just one Cyberman.

But Jackal feels his bowls weaken as it breaks their ranks, and slams into the front line with a terrifying mechanised howl. His comrades are thrown left and right, sparking and twitching.

"Somebody! Enable a rocket launcher."

But another sound joins the chaos.

The screech of tires. Above it, obnoxiously loud and infuriating, there comes boyish whoops.

And from quarter to; a filthy pickup truck skids down the slope. Several figures lean out of the windows, armed with shotguns, bootleg assault rifles. they are dressed in a disastrous mish-mash of colours and styles, scarves tied around their faces. And one of them waves a rifle gleefully, dressed in a 1910s lavender dress. The woman who assaulted White Owl.

"The Dalek Girl!"

"They're just a bunch of Red Necks! Shoot them as trespassers."

"OVER MY ROTTING TITANIUM CORPSE YOU WILL!" The Cyberman protests, in a very un-Cybermanish manner.

Jackal aims as the young men spill from the truck. There are only four of them, including the figure in the dress, but the maddened randomness of their fire makes them formidable.

The thrumming of helicopter blades is even closer, dust flies, and Fox looks up in alarm as the light of the News helicopter sweeps over them.

"Hold your fire! We can't kill civilians on television! Why the hell are they here?"

The figure in the purple dress is making a run at them.

"Is it me you're after, boys?" They whistle cheerily. Jackal starts. She appears to have changed gender. And ethnicity. The young man grins toothily at him, and despite everything, Jackal can almost laugh.

And then a jittering fist slams into the back of the neck, knocking him out cold.

I burst in through the doors of the metal prefab. It was a godsend that Robert Prittchard Junior and I were a similar size. And he seems to like the dress. I was able to slip by unnoticed.

Reece is ducked in the cabin of the pickup truck. She is safe.

But now I have to help find Sec and the Doctor. Get them to safety.

The entrance is deserted. I can only assume that the staff took cover as the Prittchard's began their attack.

I prepare to run, the hunting rifle in my hand, but skid to a halt as a familiar black shape catches the corner of my eye.

Sec's empty casing sits open in a cleared space. Enormous car chains have been used to attach it to the walls and floor.

Fear slices through me like a knife.

Where's the hybrid?

My feet clatters as I sprint down the corridor, and as I pass the room with the medical equipment; I see that it is occupied.

A figure lies on a gurney. They are partially covered by a sheet, but have been fastened in place with hospital restraints. Are they a prisoner too?

I enter cautiously, and the figure looks up. I'd know that face anywhere after this adventure. He is one of the Prittchard twins. His eyes are raw; he looks awful.

"What…what are you doing here?" He croaks. I raise a hand to my lips.

"I can ask you the same question! You're family are here; they were out looking for you. Where's your brother."

There is a terrible silence.

"She shot him…" He whispers.

My heart sinks. I feel myself become very cold.

 _Why?_

"Jock is dead. It was my fault… I-"

"No, no, no. Don't say that. Don't _ever_ say that-" I try to soothe.

"He tried to stop me. I came lookin' for _you_ …"

Now I just feel sick. I put out a hand to steady myself.

"Me?" I murmur.

"I wanted to see you." He explains wretchedly. "So bad. You were so beautiful, and I thought old Sec had got you when we didn't hear nothing back."

I try to steady my breathing.

"An' old Sec tried to save us. So they took him into a room. I dunno what they did. But it went on for ages."

I look up, my eyes already filled with tears. Oh God no.

" _Where?_ "

The lone twin closes his eyes, as if shutting out the world.

"Beyond one of them doors."

I bury my head, hanging onto the edge of the bed. Then I stand up.

"I'll come back, I promise."

I leave the lone twin sprint back into the corridor.

To try all of the doors could put us all in more danger. But in desperation I would tear them all down. I am about to try the first handle when one opens. I dive back into the surgery; watch as Red Owl bows out of the room. He has removed his coat, wears a t-shirt tucked into his immaculate pants. The soldier who has found him is talking.

"They're just some country gangster's, but we believe it would be better if we lock down the premise. White Owl wants to show you their progress with the specimen."

The copper haired man runs a tongue over his teeth.

"Glad to hear any's been made."

"And what about the hybrid? Is he…responding?"

Red Owl gives no answer. And I realise where my friend is being held.

My eyes cloud with hatred. It is a feeling so strong that I can actually taste it.

The Soldier waits, and then nods slowly.

"This way, then."

I duck behind the door, close my eyes; but their footsteps fade as they head the other way. I take in a deep breath, and then sprint to the door. It has been closed. I didn't see them lock it. I try the handle; it's stiff. I throw my weight against it.

I tumble into the black space beyond.

There is a greenish tinge to the air. A smell of electricity. Burning flesh.

A stooped, awful figure is seated in the centre of the room. They must be restrained to their chair, they have sank so far forward. Wires trail from its bare brain, mingling with the tentacles; and features that are familiar to me have been transformed into an image from a nightmare.

"Sec?" I whisper. Barely any sound escapes.

I dive forward, shake him. My heart is racing so hard that I can barely think.

"Come on, Sec! You have to wake up! It's me…"

They ran electricity straight through his brain. The pain alone could kill. Is that what they felt, when a Dalek exterminated a victim? I won't believe it.

I wipe my eye, and pinch his arm hard.

And he flinched, breathes in sharply, his tentacles writhe. His eye cracks open. A look of fear and resignation. But it fades as he recognises me.

"Eliza…why are you here…"

I find myself smiling; my eyes are stinging with tears.

"Came back for you. We're a team. I'd never leave you."

He has closed his eye. He shakes his head.

"I did it so you'd be safe…the Time Lord too…"

I get to my feet, and make my way to the other side of the seat. His hands are cuffed. I don't have the key. Damn it. If I had a hair-grip.

"Have I made up for it…" His voice drifts, slow, far away, through the room.

"For what?" I glance around, notice the trolley. Ugly tools lie gleaming on a sheet. Among them are wires.

"For all of them…for the dead…"

I grab a wire and pull at it with my teeth. The plastic casing breaks, and I taste the metal of the wire. It will have to do.

"I don't even care. People kill all the time." I say through gritted teeth. "But if you give up on me you bastard, I'll never forgive you."

"Can't forget…I'm so tired…"

My hand tremble as I insert the wire into the cuffs. It is a pathetic tool: far too soft. I look up. See the needle dug deep into his cranium.

"Brace yourself."

He starts as I yank it loose. It trips with a thin, clear fluid, but works perfectly.

There is a click. Sec slumps forward.

He reveals the tall figure standing in the doorway.

Red Owl chuckles, a noise almost insane, as he sees me freeze.

"Well; you were quite the fraud then, Dalek Girl? You didn't kill Dalek Sec. Perhaps you'd like me to do the honours?"

I leap to my feet, grabbing the rifle. I fire, but the bullet whistles over his shoulder. He takes out a gun of his own, and old, maddened panic flows through me.

"He's not going anywhere!" He shouts. "We want our weapon; and it's only a matter of time until the specimen is ready! The Doctor will show us how to control it!"

"That's what this is about?" I snarl. "Killing people?"

"We unleash this thing, and we destroy it. But the world's leaders will blame extra-terrestrial forces. We can hook it on the Doctor; Sontarins, Autons, Adipose. Doesn't matter. But they'll pay us forever to create weapons to kill it. They'll always been aiming at the sky for an aggressor who will never come. Kind of Dalek-like, wouldn't you say?"

I leap roll out of the way as he fires. I feel like a trapped animal.

I've dropped the rifle.

Red Owl giggles as he steps closer.

"We're gonna make billions. My sister and I. What are you going to do?"

"Go fuck yourself."

"I can do better than that."

I lunge at him, realise I don't care about the weapon. He hits his head on the corner of the table. I try to pin him down, but as frail as he is, he is strong. He pushes me; I'm on my back. Fingers close around my throat. I tear at his arms with my nails. But he holds on; all I can see is his pale face, teeth bared almost grinning.

And then he stiffens; cries out in agony. It is a shrill cry, like the bird of his name-sake. I barely noticed the shot. He curls, setting me free, and I sit up, choking.

Sec stands above him, holding the shotgun, breathing in shakily. The barrel is smoking.

"Enough." He says quietly. "Don't touch her."

Red Owl is clutching his leg, moaning.

"Weak!" he screams.

I could almost pity him. But I see the pain on the hybrid's face. I remember how he hurt Reece. And I realise that I really don't care what happens to him.

"I won't make you suffer." Sec promises.

He pulls the trigger a second time.

I see his arms tremble. The rifle drops. Red Owl no longer moves.

"You're not weak, Sec…" I tell him. "You're just like us…"

He almost sinks to the ground, but I catch him, hold onto him. Bury my head into his shoulder, and feel him hold me just as tight.

He's going to be okay.

I let him go.

"My casing?" He asks.

"They have it chained up. Reece is free. We need to help the Doctor. Destroy the weapon."

Sec's face spasms.

"No."

I look at him questioningly.

"There's something we don't understand…The Leech… I don't think she's what we think she is. We can't destroy her…too many have died today."

"We have to save her?"

He nods.

"We have to be better than them…"


	21. A Not-So-Peaceful Christmas Eve

Reece is only a girl. Perhaps she is a little awkward; has a long way to go.

But as I sat in that chair, let Red Owl hurt me; then I was not better than her.

I cannot pretend, back in my casing, back beside the unstoppable Eliza that I am not sick and dazed from what he did to me. By what I did to him in return.

But we have a job to do.

"We have to find Reece, Eliza! Where is she?"

"She's waiting in the Prittchard's truck. What about the Doctor?"

"They took him to the Leech. You take Walter to his family; I will retrieve him! You will be safe; she would make a fine excellent Warrior."

She grins roguishly.

"Right. For God's sakes, take care of yourself."

"You too."

She turns, but before she follows me to Walter's ward, she reaches for something left on the security desk.

Her ridiculous lavender hat.

She hooks the ribbon around her neck so that it hangs behind her shoulders.

Eliza is completely crazy.

No wonder she is my friend.

I leave her with to the lone twin and glide with purpose down the corridor. Two guards come charging our way, no doubt summoned by the shots.

"The Dalek's escaped! Tell White-"

"Exterminate!"

They crumple as the white beams of energy tear through them. Not dead; out cold. I elevate over their bodies. To stay airborne is quicker.

The structure is only temporary. It is bullet proof, quite possibly bomb-proof. But certainly not Dalek proof.

I blast a barrier off is hinges. Another onslaught of Soldiers opens fire, only to dive back as their bullet's ricochet off my side. I plough through them as if they were toys. Spin mid-air to knock flat two more. All the while, moving forward.

I smash through into the central chamber. Soldiers and masked researchers line the precinct, and turn in alarm as I enter. White Owl is among them, and her eyes widen.

"Where is the Doctor?" I roar. But I can see him beyond the glass. He turns, surprized. With him, a black shape stirs. The Leech is as I first saw it; limp, grotesque limbs hanging from its underside.

"Don't just stand there!" She commands. "Shoot to kill!"

She doesn't even know…

I shoot her with a blast on energy, and she drops with a little, almost childlike gasp. Fire is opened, and my vision is obscured by the smoke and the sparks. It dies down as one by one, I take out each of them.

"Sec; you're needed!" The Doctor's cry is muffled by the glass. "Don't mind them; destroy the Leech!"

We have disagreed on many things, but I can now say with certainty that he is wrong.

It takes several blasts to warp and weaken the sliding door, and I throw it aside with my plunger. I glide inside.

The Doctor steps back to receive me.

"You're alright." He remarks. His weathered face is filled with weariness; and something else. Concern? For a Dalek. Today is a strange day indeed. "You're too bloody, noble, that's you're problem."

"I am fine; if anything the electrodes cured my depression: Well, perhaps not. But Doctor; we cannot destroy the Leech."

"…You're kidding?" He balls his fists. An ancient, stinging hatred fills his eyes. "I see; you'll pilfer it now that you have all the right equipment! Another stab at glory for Dalek Sec!"

"What? No! It is the opposite-"

"No; I don't think so! It's been too long a night for this Sec!"

Behind him, the Leech burbles quietly. It is almost a sound of unease.

"Listen to me!"

But when the old man shouts, I fall back as an almost animal fear takes me.

"I LOST ROSE TYLER BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"AND I LET MY OWN DALEKS KILL ME FOR YOU!" I scream in return. "AND I TOOK HUNDREDS OF VOLTS, WAS WILLING TO SUFFER ON THIS TERRIBLE PLANET FOR YEARS, JUST SO THAT MAYBE, _MAYBE,_ I COULD MAKE RIGHT WHAT I DID WRONG! IT WILL _NEVER_ BE ENOUGH FOR YOU, WILL IT DOCTOR?!"

The Doctor stalls. His mouth is open. His skin shimmers below his eyes; I realise he's crying. My rage at his prejudice ebbs, and I land. The Leech has taken to cower in the corner. Not a mindless blob; something that fears. Something alive and thinking.

I remember Rose Tyler. The first living thing I saw, a life time ago after waiting in a metaphysical shuttle. The Bad Wolf She was brave, and smart. The Doctor's famous companion.

So she was lost that day? I did not know that.

But I cannot let this blind him.

The Doctor blinks, looks away.

"I can't…The Daleks have taken so much away…"

"I know…" I agree. "But if it's any consolation, being one means so much was lost too. I don't want that to be a burden anymore."

"What does this have to do with the Leech? It's my fault it's here. I have to make it right."

A flood of what can only be, strange as it seems, empathy, floods through me.

"I think we both share that feeling."

Walter stumbles alongside me. He is wearing a lab coat that I snatched from the ward shivering. The T.V. helicopter still circles overhead. I wonder what the media can make of such a scene.

There are barely any soldiers in sight. Those who remain are kneeling, hands behind their head, the two Prittchard sons and their stocky father standing around them with guns. They turn as they see their brother approach.

"Walter! You were here all along! Where the hell is Jock?"

Their brother trembles, and I grab onto him before he collapses onto the ground. From behind one of the tents, Mama Prittchard appears. She places her iron fists on her hips.

"Son?" Asks the father.

The brother's faces fall as they see that something is wrong. I look up, shake my head.

"Dora; Rob…I'm so sorry…"

The arms of the Cyberwoman drop. August's lower lip trembles. I see one of the soldiers lower his head.

Junior, still wearing the lavender dress, lowers his weapon and staggers to take his brother from me. His namesake's face creases in anguish.

I did not think it was possible for a Cyberman to show feelings. But they present in what isn't shown as much as what is.

"…AFTER WHAT HAPPENED TO ME…I ALWAY'S KNEW THAT I WOULD OUTLIVE MY SONS. BUT NOT SO SOON."

"It's almost over. Reece needs to come here. I think she can end it."

There is the sound of a car door shutting, and I look to see the girl in question approach. She looks tiny and frail in the desert night.

"What happened? Did you find them?" She asks hoarsely. I nod, kneel down to meet her.

"Reece; it may be a bit much to ask, but we need you to use your powers. Just one last time."

Her eyes widen behind her glasses. She shakes her head.

"What about the angels? They might escape! I don't know what they are, but I don't want anyone else to get hurt."

"You dragged us into this." August agrees savagely. "Haven't you done enough, girl?"

I close my eyes.

"They can't use the weapon. We have to set the Leech free. I think it must live in the Cathedral world. That's must be why it went wild whenever you used your powers."

Reece bites her lip. She seems to consider.

"But…where will I go? What will happen to my world?"

I place a hand on her shoulder.

"You will stay here. You shouldn't have to run away from your problems. Kids can be shits. I can only promise you that it gets better."

Reece listens, looking a little uncertain. But then she nods.

"Okay then." She says.

And then she kneels to the ground. I step back.

"Wait; not here. Nearer the Leech!"

She is tracing a large square in the ground. She is frightened. She wants to get it over with.

"Reece; listen to me!"

I try to erase a portion of the square; but it's too late. The young girl slams her foot on the ground.

The Prittchards and the Soldiers struggle away as the ground cracks open and the land falls in, and like a reflection in a pool, a morning sky and ancient walls shines up at us.

We feel the Earth shake. The Doctor turns to look at me in alarm.

"What was that?" He asks slowly.

"How should I know?"

A deep, rhythmic purr seeps from the corner of the room. Slowly, the two of us turn.

The Leech has shrank. She is almost smaller than the puddle she became on the first day.

"Reece…" I realise.

Then a tide of black sludge crashes over us. Everything becomes black.

"Help!" The Doctor cries as he is engulfed. I dive under the surface, find the fabric of his coat with my plunger. Try to grapple, but he is pulled away.

It surges out of the building like a mudslide. The Soldiers. White Owl. They could drown.

I prepare to fire; but what if she is conductive? I could kill them, too. Instead, I aim upwards.

As I burst out into the night sky, the Leech has already broken out of the building and is knocking aside the tents. I can see a shock of hair floating on the surface. Two. White Owl. The Doctor.

A square of light is beaming from the ground. The foolish girl. What has she done?

The soldiers are struggling like ants up the side of the outcrop. Among them are the Prittchards. I see Eliza's full-haired figure further down the slope. She doesn't run. Panicking, I dive.

"Eliza, what are you waiting for?" I cry. "She has the Doctor! She will wash you all away!"

"The angel!"

"What angel?" I turn.

The stone figure waits, unmoving, granite against sandstone. Those demons. I don't even wait. A moment later, it has exploded in a blast of blue light. Shrapnel rains down.

"How many more are there?"

"One by Reece; her porthole is a nest for them." She points.

"Grab on."

"Oh God; not again…"

Eliza hangs on below me as we fly over the pit. Reece is frozen to the spot, and archaic figure feet away from her. Behind her, the deadly tide of the Leech is sweeping. In second's time, she will drain away into the morning-filled pit.

"Reece! Take cover!" Eliza yells as I open fire. The angel glows before it shatters. Reece turns on her heels.

The Leech catches her, swiping her off her feet. Her scream is shrill and sudden.

"NO!"

I make a dive. The edges of the pit are trembling. I have to save her. I have to keep my promise.

"Eliza; you can drop now! Save yourself."

"I told you we're a team, didn't I? I don't think so." She yells back.

And so the two of us surge past the inky waterfall, only for gravity to shift.

We tumble through the new, snow-filled air. A world surrounded by pillars. And as Reece's porthole closes, it surges like a storm over the sides.

The Doctor is struggling to his feet. He looks around in awe, then cups his hands. The White Owl is on her knees, trying to stand. And far down the ancient aisle, Reece is floundering.

And a horrific, world breaking scream fills the air. The Leech herself is crying in anguish. This was not her home. She is trapped. Just like us.

"She spoke!" Yells the Doctor. "Sec; she's alive! You were right!"

"What is she saying?" Eliza asks. The snow is landing in the inky surface, peppering it with white. He closes his eyes, struggling against the flood.

"'Not here…not here'. Just that. Over and over.'"

There comes another scream, and I turn to see the White Owl, trying to scramble up the rotten pulpit. The flood lashes around the skirts of the angel. I raise my weapon, ready to destroy it.

And then Eliza's weight vanishes from beneath me.

"Eliza!" Reece cries. Before I can even turn, she has vanished herself.

The Weeping angels. They've taken them both.

"Where have they gone?" Demands White Owl. She is cut off mid-sentence.

The grief washes over me. I almost hurl myself from my casing into the flood.

"I…I wasn't looking... Doctor?" My voice is too high; hardly mine.

His face has clouded with grief. The swirling of the tide is calming.

"I have failed them…"

The Time Lord is focussed on the statue that now stands before him. My advantage of being unable to blink has done nothing. I can only wait. Hold on. But he has turned his face to the sky.

"Why are you looking away? They will take you too!"

"Sec…look how large the sun is…" He muses.

"I can't! What do you think I'm doing?"

"Wormholes can appear anywhere. Sometimes they wait in the hearts of children. But they don't just travel through space. Oh no. They travel through time, too. Sec, trust me."

I falter.

The Time Lord raises his arms, and speaks in a voice full of rage and fear.

"Angels! You've waited long enough! You've scoured this dead world; no souls left to take! You spared the girl, but only in wait for a larger meal! Well, you will eat well tonight! Take me! Take the Dalek! Take the Leech! If we are to go, let us go together!"

I want to ask him if he has gone mad, but I stop. Understanding.

I cannot be afraid.

I switch off my vision, and in the following dark, there is a rushing like a shower torn back into the heavens.

And I feel stone wings clatter against my casing.


	22. Christmas Day

Hot air brushes against my cheek.

The breath of an animal.

My muscles feel stiff from the fall, and I don't want to move.

I crack my eyes open.

I am nose to nose with a horrific monster. Moisture drips from its fleshy snout, its head is covered in brown shaggy hair, and its enormous wet eyes are dark and mournful. It lets out a lowing bellow.

I shriek and leap from the ground, and the dairy cow stumbles backwards. It bellows in alarm. I catch my breath. Where am I?

I remember dangling above the torrent; the shrieking mass of the Leech as she rushed over Reece's Cathedral. Then cold, hard fingers grasped me by the waist. And now…

Where on earth am I?

A field. The grass is incredibly green and wet. The air is cool, clammy, but warmer than that of the desert. The cow seems to be one of a herd, and stands eyeing me cautiously from a safe distance.

The ground is flat. Stretches out into fields. No spires line the horizon; instead, electricity pylons cut through the sky in thin black lines.

My borrowed pants are soaked at the heel. They cling uncomfortably.

"Eliza?"

Sec is standing behind me, plunger lowered, black against the grey, turbulent sky. He looks completely out of place. His plunger is raised; he only does that when he's nervous.

"Sec? What happened, where are we? Oh!"

The Dalek rushes forward and slams into me, closes his plunger and weapon around me. An embrace. Awkward; exactly like being hugged by a tank. But he acts as if he was afraid for my life. He breaks into a spin, and I grab on, telling him to watch out.

"Eliza; I honestly thought I'd lost you!"

I laugh, as confused as I am endeared.

"How so?"

"An Angel took you. This is how they eat; they drag their victims through time...as they have with us."

So that explains the change in scenery. Past the Dalek, the Doctor nurses his head, rising to his feet. By the dry-stone wall, little Reece is looking around her in alarm. And in the corner of the field, like a patch of total dark, the Leech is huddled; balled like an enormous slug. Her rage seems to have drained away, and she is quite still, almost pathetic.

"Eliza, I…"

Reece is stumbling to her feet. One of the lenses of her glasses is broken. Sec and I rush over. She is crying freely, and she shakes her head.

"Eliza; I ruined everything. I just wanted it to be over. That's why I opened the window when I did…I didn't think…"

"Oh, you little idiot;" I scoop her into a hug. She is trembling, and sobs as she buries her head into my chest. "You're alive, that's all that matters. What's he doing?"

The Doctor is on all fours. Sec and I exchange glances (his eyestalk almost knocks me down). We watch as he pulls at the sod, and puts a mouthful of soil in his mouth. He raises his eyes to the sky, appears to savour it, like a wine taster, and then spits it out. He sees our looks of disgust, and frowns solemnly.

"They kept their promise. We're together. But you are all very far from home. Far out of time; too…"

"How far out of time? Doctor?"

I can feel my heart in my chest. So we're lost after all.

The Doctor shakes his head.

"We're…we're in England. Lincolnshire to be precise."

" _England?_ " Reece and I chime. That is far away; but hardly worlds away. Besides; I've always been curious to see across the pond. My impressions at the moment are - muddy.

"That's not so bad."

"Yes it is…the date; it's wrong! And we're all stuck here!"

"So where – I mean _when_ are we?" I ask, feeling a lump in my throat.

The Doctor sighs.

"It's…the twenty-fifth of December, 2016!"

We stare at him blankly. Reece looks up at me; she's grinning as if trying not to laugh.

"So…basically…they've taken us twenty-three days into the future?" I clarify.

"No! Though the past I tell you! Thousands of years into the past! That was a lot of Angel's hungry ones at that! We are on the exact same spot as we were a moment ago; but far, far into the past! See, the Cathedrals are gone! They were built in the future; as Man began to evacuate the Earth!"

"But we're fine!" I bawl. "This is perfect! We're in our own time; and to top it all, it's now Christmas Day!"

"I…ah…" The Doctor stalls, looks at me as if he's only just realised that I speak English.

"I believe that Merry Christmas is the customary saying." Sec remarks dryly.

Very slowly a look of comprehension falls over the Doctor's face.

"…You're absolutely right. We're fine. Well then; Merry Christmas everybody."

"No!"

To our left, the cattle part. Something ragged, coated in a film of black sludge staggers towards us. She hold a metal object in her hand, raises it.

"No," White Owl repeats. Her tongue runs across her lips, and she wrinkles her nose, apparently regretting it. "I don't think so. I will be taking our weapon, now. And then I'm going to blast all of your brains out! Don't…don't think I won't!"

Sec raises his weapon defensively, but Reece steps calmly forward, and he lowers it.

"Tanya; that's a flashlight." She informs our aggressor coolly. White Owl stares down at her hand stupidly, sees that the teenager is correct, and drops it.

"Well Hedwig; I suppose that makes you our prisoner. You might want to behave; we have a very pissed off Dalek here who might want to exact revenge." The Doctor remarks. White Owl laughs manically.

"You think so? Just you wait 'till my people find me! And my brother…oh Sec he's not finished with you, and you'll do whatever the fuck we say-"

I glance at Sec, see him hesitate. He makes a minute movement with his eyestalk, twitching it towards me.

"He is finished. He cannot harm anyone now."

The furious face drains of colour. The corners of Tanya Weiss's mouth fall. The Doctor wears a curiously sombre face.

"…Paul?" She murmurs.

"Baited one of the universe's most deadly life forms, and paid the price. Bonus points for it being one of the few one's I've ever had any respect for."

White Owl looks on the verge of collapse. She blinks, composes herself.

"Well…all the more riches for me…he was an idiot…he wanted…he wanted…"

"Just consider it karma." The Doctor. "For him and Jock Prittchard."

"It's over, Tanya." Reece strikes the balance, seems genuinely sorry. Deep down, I know that I never will be. Not for him. I pity only the living.

The cattle are staying well away from the Leech. She raises herself, cautiously, like an animal testing the air.

"It is not over quite yet." Sec observes. He leaves Tanya standing still, swaying a little, and makes his way towards the creature. I decide to follow.

The Leech turns to face us. She rears, towering above us. Sec looks tiny in comparison. Lowers his plunger.

"'Not here'. Is that not what you said, friend? Perhaps you are closer to home now?"

A grumble emanates from the creature.

"No-one's going to hurt you anymore." I say warmly. "Don't be scared. If he puts a plunger or tentacle out of line; I'll floor him for you."

"She will. It is true."

The Leech stands at an intimidating height; a mountain of black against the rainy English sky. It is beginning to get dark.

Then she lowers herself to the ground. A hand emerges from the slime, feels for the grass. I step back in horror, but Sec informs me that all is well. We part as she begins to crawl across the field. Searching.

"I guess we ought to follow her. Y'know. Just in case there's trouble."

"You're mad. All of you." Tanya Weiss' voice trembles. "It will kill everybody. It's a monster."

"If you say so." Sec pays her very little attention.

It isn't long before the Leech leads us to a road. Sec and I walk in single file behind her, and when I glance behind, I see the Doctor, leading Tanya Weiss and Reece along with him. A flock of starlings rushes overhead. There is a strong smell of wood smoke in the air.

"What happens when she reaches the town?" I ask. "Won't there be a panic?"

"We will take care of her." Sec promises.

"You'd better not be leading us to some sort of superweapon you've been preparing earlier." The Doctor's voice floats from the back of the train.

There is barely any traffic on the road; which is just as well because they are very narrow.

The Leech is beginning to pick up her pace.

About an hour later, when my feet are truly sore, the single spire of a church comes into view. Lights twinkly from between night-blackened trees. A village. It is the most English looking village I have ever seen; which isn't saying a lot as I am no expert. But it is even smaller than Martin as it was described to me. It looks homely; and I feel fear. What business could a creature such as the Leech have here?

She is pacing like an excited hound. Sec rises into the air so as to keep up with her. I am having to jog, and Reece catches up with me. The Doctor is walking with Tanya, who has become very quiet, and puts up no fight. She has been hit with the grief she has given to others. I think I hear her sob, and turn in time to see the Doctor touch her arm.

The houses are small, their eaves low; built of brick. I realise that I haven't been wrong; this is one of the prettiest settlements I have ever seen. Garish lights in red, gold and blue sparkle from fairy lights and lawns; cheery snowmen, tawdry reindeers.

A pang of sadness hits me. Lewis will be alone. In the score of days we have been gone, he must have wondered what has happened.

The Leech bursts, and becomes a torrent once more. I freeze. She rushes, keeping to the road. Tanya swears.

"It's a trap! She's going to kill them!" Reece panics.

"Wait; wait!" As Sec surges forward, I break into a run.

We follow the Leech as she surges down the hillock, towards a house that stands alone. No lights adorn its façade, but the windows are lit, shining a yellowish light into the gloom. Perhaps they should be warned.

"Sec; watch Tanya!" The Doctor commands, and he sprints to catch up with me.

We jump the hedge, stumble across the rain-beaten lawn. The Doctor approaches the wooden door and bashes the wrought-iron knocker.

There is a rumbling sound as the Leech approaches.

Perhaps drawn by the sound of the Leech more than anything else, the door opens a crack.

A man, brown-skinned, bags under his eyes, surveys us in confusion. He must be about fifty. He has a well-trimmed beard, and wears a knitted cardigan. He looks ultimately normal, if not boring.

"Can I help you?" He asks, polite, yet cautious. His British accent makes me bristle a little.

"You can help yourself; you might want to run." The Doctor urges.

"I don't-"

But his eyes widen with fear as he looks past us. We turn.

The Leech stands motionless on the herringbone path. Great drops of slime fall from her body in strings. She is a formidable spectre. Why as she come to a stop?

"Doctor…" I urge.

The man has opened the door fully. A white woman of similar age has appeared behind him.

"What is this?" The man demands. "Judy; get you're Dad. Take him out the back door."

She waits for a moment. I hold my breath, and then she begins to edge forward. Sec, Reece, and Tanya appear from over the hedge; Sec's lights colouring the air. He pulls back and vanishes into the canopy.

Then, the Leech slides forward, slowly, as if stumbling.

"What's going on?" A man's voice comes from inside the house. An elderly man in spectacles appears around the door. The Doctor and I glance at each other. What do we do?

"Close our door!" The woman's voice is sad, yet ferocious. "Don't let that monster in to our house. Leave us; whoever you are!"

"No; wait." I beg. I remember what Sec said. A weapon. Didn't work.

"Karima…?" The little old man's eyes fill with tears.

The two others turn in confusion. The Doctor's mouth hangs open.

"It's our Karima! Are you both blind?" He stumbles forward. My heart rises, in both alarm and surprise as the Leech rushes forward, sliding up onto the porch.

"No Dad! Have you lost your mind?"

"Sir, what are you doing?" The Doctor demands, but I put out a hand.

Now, the muddy form that is the Leech is in the red-carpeted hallway. It almost touches the ceiling.

We watch, without any power of the situation, as the little old man throws his arms around the mass.

I hear his daughter let out a fearful sob.

"Sweet Davros…" The Doctor murmurs.

And before our eyes; the Leech begins to shrink. It is like watching a melting snow in a time laps. The black sludge fades away, and suddenly, the Leech is only a little taller than the man who embraces her. Then the mass suddenly seems to cling to a figure; an abstract figure like a cast from Pompeii. And now, the slime is sinking away completely. Disappearing to reveal skin, matted dark hair; a thin frame, her father's hooked nose. Her mother's frightened eyes.

And then, the grandfather is embracing a young woman, who with a sob of joy, throws her arms around him. Something drops from her chest. I take a step into the house, to see what it is.

Little black shards.

They look a little like pieces of an opal.

"The Leech was never a predator nor a parasite." Sec is telling me, sitting on the doorstep beside me. "Rather she was Karima Luthra all along. That was how the weapon was supposed to work. It would transform whoever it infected into a monster, thus turning families against their own; friends murdering their friends. But it was imperfect. It could not work on Time Lords, and the illusion did not work on those perceived to be insane, or of a weak mind."

"Like a batty old man?"

The hybrid smiles. I've missed his terrifying old face so much.

"Like a batty old man. The chemicals released by contact with a loved one was enough to break the transformation. An act of true love. How disgusting."

I look up at the living room window. Inside, I can hear laughter. After Karima was hugged by her parents, her mother nearly drowned in tears, her father thanked every God imaginable, we were invited in. I can hear a thick Scottish voice telling a joke. Reece's thin, but dirty chuckle rises above them. Even Tanya was offered a cup of tea and a bath, and through the tears and the sombreness; I thought I saw her smile. She's a bitch of a woman. But I doubt her ambitions will hold her long.

Sec has been waiting outside, and I have come to give him company.

I lie my head on his shoulder, and he nudges me with a fist. He has borrowed Rob Prittchard Junior's sweatshirt from me. It suits him as much as it suited me; not at all.

Behind us, the door cracks open, and the thin, finally clean figure of Karima, formerly the Leech, steps out. She wears a dressing gown over striped pyjama bottoms. She is narrow-faced, in her early twenties, and very beautiful. Her smile is a magnificent thing, but sad. It is a look I know well; the pain and fear will take a long time to fade, if it fades at all. She leans over, and plant's a kiss on Sec's bare cranium. He turns magenta.

"You saved me." Her voice is deep, warm. "You all did. You brought me home. I don't think I'll ever live that up."

Sec beams shyly. I rise and am pulled into a hug. She smells of shampoo, and underneath there are tones of earth.

"I'm sorry about the shooting." Sec says. Karima shrugs.

"I'm here, aren't I? I suppose you'll all be heading back to the states?"

"Yup. The Doctor left his TARDIS in New Mexico, and Reece needs to go back to her family. She has called her mother." Says Sec. "Now you are human again, White Owl no longer has a weapon. The entire state knows about their operation, so I imagine it will close down. And I will return to the wilderness once more. It's the best place for a monster."

"Or," I suggest, "You'll come back to New York with me. Lewis and I will sort something out. I'm sure you'd love to see how your garden's getting on. We can get a private jet no problem. Being in UNIT opens doors."

Sec turns to me, his blue eye full of questions. I nod, and it lights up like that of his casing. Karima laughs through her nose.

"I think I may have to take you up on that one." He promises.

It really is over.

Have a good Christmas, Hanukah, or just have a good holiday. And thank you for reading.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX


	23. January 7th 2017

Subject: Saying Hello And Thank You!

To: doolittle123 .us

Cc: vampirequeenrools42

Hi Eliza and Sec! Happy New Year!

I just thought it would be really cool to talk to you guys and stay in contact after everything that happened.

Here in New Mexico, everything is back to normal. Well, nearly. I saw Mama Prittchard in town yesterday; they're still very sad about their son, but she said to give their regards and say thank you to you both and the Doctor for getting rid of all the trouble. They had his funeral while we were away. She says that that News helicopter never actually had any cameras in it, and that it belonged to a friend of the commissioner. I think it fooled those army guys though. It's in the real news that they got caught and that they were doing everything illegally. Tanya Weiss was good to her word and confessed everything to the press and police. Using aliens as weapons and creating fake terror stories. She's being sent to prison for sure. The UNIT people say they don't know anything about it; my Mum says she wouldn't believe it for the world, but I thought as you're in UNIT Eliza, you'd know better. Any thoughts?

Since we were caught by the angels in my hiding place, I haven't been able to go back. I can't see the windows anymore. But actually, it's turned out alright. I can't just run away when things go wrong. I stood up to Bethany Korrs on Monday. You should have seen the look on her face! When it looked like she was going to have a go at me, Sophie and a couple of other kids all stood up to her too! In the end she sloped off. She's not so tough really. Besides, Mama Prittchard said that if they ever gave me trouble again, they'd have to answer to her!

I miss seeing you around, Sec. I guess you must have found me pretty annoying; but you saved me anyway. I knew Daleks could be good, really! I know you're not really a Dalek, but you're what they should be like, I think. I'm having my own adventures now. Another girl in my year asked me out, and I said yes. She's called Alana, and she said that she had a crush on me since we were in middle school. She's really pretty and I feel really lucky! You're both the first adults I've told; I'm not sure what Mum and Dad will think, but right now they're so glad to have me back, I think they'd let me get away with murder. It won't last.

If you see the Doctor again; give him my thanks, too!

Hope to hear from you soon,

Reece Darcey

"Well, what do you think of that?" I ask Eliza across the room. She's leaning on Lewis, laptop balanced on her knees, working on her résumé.

"I'm glad they're all getting on alright." She smiles. The expression falls as she looks up, and sees that I was reading the email off her phone. She strides across the room and snatches it off of me, shaking her head. "It's a pity;" she goes on. "I almost miss her. And crazy Mama Prittchard."

Lewis chuckles. He was a little quiet around me at first; I said that I'd be fine in finding my own accommodation, but he gruffly insisted. We have been talking.

Technically I am supposed to be washing the dishes; difficult when I am in my Mach III. I could get out, but after what the late Red Owl did to me, I haven't been as active as I used to be. I'm improving. Eliza is an old hand with PTSD, so she and Lewis is there if I can't sleep or have nightmares.

There is a strange sound emanating from above. It sounds familiar to me. At first I think it must be the heating, but then Lewis looks up too, frowning. The Magnetons make a dive for under the couch.

"What the heck is that?" He asks.

But Eliza has caught my eye.

A surge of initial dread and anger is cut off by a feeling of inevitability.

"D'you recon he found it again, then?"

"Evidently."

The blue box is surging in and out of view. The three of us pile onto the roof; it is still warm even with the biting chill in the air.

Lewis reaches out for my hand as Sec draws up next to us.

"What in the world…" he mouths. "I'm way past this shit."

"No, it's really babe." I say soothingly.

The TARDIS solidifies with a climatic boom, and the door swings open to reveal a hawk-like old man; wild white hair. Holed jumper. Ridiculous grin.

"Doctor." Sec acknowledges. "Did not expect to see you again so soon. If at all."

"And a happy new year to you too, you metal git!" The Doctor hollers. "To you, Eliza my dear girl! How is UNIT fairing?"

"It's not." I can't help but smile to see him. "I talked to Vice; I'm quitting! Think I'll find myself something more exciting!"

"Wonderful news!" The Doctor congratulates genuinely.

Lewis raises a freckled hand.

"This is the guy?" He asks me.

"Yes, this is him."

"And who is this handsome young gentleman?" The Doctor steps forward in greeting. Lewis slaps him in the face. He stumbles back.

"That's for kidnapping my girlfriend, sir!"

The Doctor is massaging his jaw, checks his hand as if for blood.

"Well, it's far better than a hug." He mumbles. "Congratulations; I definitely deserved that."

Lewis seems satisfied, and places his hands on his hips, grinning through his beard.

"Well done! I've wanted to do that for years!" Sec is almost so pleased that he nearly jumps.

"Really? Even after I give you your present?"

Sec falls still. I look from him to the Doctor questioningly.

"What present?"

He is reaching into his jacket pocket, withdraws a rolled up copy of the New York Times. He flicks through it and hands it to me, pointing at the article in question. Lewis and the Dalek read it over my shoulder. We all hold our breath.

"No…" Sec's voice is tiny. Even as crushed and robotic as it is, I can hear the emotion in it. "How…how did you do it?"

The Doctor scratches behind his ear, shrugs. I am almost crying.

"Well, you remember what I said when I left you in 1930? That this was kind of like a purgatory? You've definitely suffered enough. I pulled some strings. It's great being me sometimes."

I read the title again, and then again, going warm in the cheeks:

 _ **Dalek Sec Granted Pardon**_

"It's like everyone says; you're not really a Dalek anymore. In fact, you are so genetically dissimilar to the original Cult of Skaro leader that I was able to argue that you are no longer him. And, well, you've more than proved it to be true!"

Sec is silent. His eyestalk rises from the page to the Doctor, then to me, then to Lewis, then back to the Time Lord.

"…Thank you…" He says. His voice is high pitched. Then louder, almost elevating with joy, he says it again. "Thank you so much!"

"Alright; don't embarrass yourself!" The Doctor protests, and howls with rage and surprise as I throw my arms around him laughing like a maniac. As Lewis joins in, he declares that he'd prefer another hit to this agony.

"There you go; take your life and enjoy it, you nutty hybrid disgrace to nature! Before these savages smother me to death!"

He pulls loose, and leaps into the TARDIS. Before the door shuts, he chucks something purple at me. I grab it, and recognise my old-fashioned dress, creased and dusty.

"I'm off. I swore I'd never come back to New York: too many bad memories. And now I'm here; I don't mean to stay any longer than I have to! Goodbye morons! And nice garden, by the way."

As the TARDIS vanishes, I let the dress unfold and hold it out.

"Not even stretched! I guess Melanie can go over the seams for me."

"Now wait a moment, what on earth is that? Very new-romantic!" Lewis remarks. Sec and I look at one another.

"It is a long story." Sec says. "I will tell you both over dinner. It is on me."

We head down the stairs, Sec gliding freely behind.

It's going to be a good year. I can tell.


End file.
